There are no easy beginnings
by s.cinnamon
Summary: How did Sonea, Akkarin and the Guild come to terms with what happened after the Ichani were defeated. Set inbetween the final chapter and the epilogue of my first fic, 'There are no easy endings'. Epilogue - 'Found', is up.
1. Prologue Wounded

**Hi. Revisited my first fic recently and got to thinking in more detail about what happened to Sonea and Akkarin inbetween the final chapter of my fic, and the epilogue . How did they come to terms with what had happened to them, and how easily did the other members of the Guild accept the prescence of two such closely allied Black Magicians? Below is a short prologue to give you a flavour. I have sketched out the first couple of chapters after this and will carry on if anyone out there thinks it's worth it! More hurt/comfort than high drama, but there is a little tension going on. You need to have read my first fic,'There are no easy endings', to have the foggiest about what's going on! It all belongs to Trudi!**

**Prologue.- Wounded**

The young woman leaned forward in the chair and stared out of the window. She put her elbows on the sill, resting her chin on her hands. The dove grey sky seemed flat and two dimensional, the clouds merging into one. Robed figures went about their business below, hurrying to tutorials and meetings as if, only weeks before nothing had happened. The fine rain made contact with the invisible shields surrounding each magician creating strangely beautiful watery globes.

Though the watcher at the window looked, she did not really see. Her dark eyes were not focused on the mundane scene outside her window. Her gaze was turned inwards, recalling things from her memory that she would rather forget.

She suddenly sighed and her eyes snapped into focus on the reflection that stared back at her from the window pane. A pale, too thin, face framed by almost black hair, a full mouth that nevertheless seemed pinched, and large dark brown eyes that bore an expression that made the owner of the reflection shudder; fear, wariness and...

_...Weakness_, Sonea thought, as she watched the rain hit the window and trace rivulets of water down her reflection. She tasted a salty wetness on her lips and realised it was not just the rain she saw marring her face in the glass.

_Is this what it will be like for me now? _She wondered. _Scared to leave this room, wary of anyones touch or attention; weak and defeated, even though I live?_

Two young brown robed novices caught Sonea's eye below. They shared a joke and laughed, their heads inclined towards each other. A sudden memory flashed into Sonea's mind of being with Cery, Donia and the rest of Harrin's gang long ago. They were sat in a cold cramped room, dirty and hungry, but laughing at one of Harrin's failed pranks so much that their sides hurt. She remembered the girl she had been; not exactly carefree, but determined, independent and...

_._..."Strong." She whispered to the pale woman in the glass.

* * *

The common room of the bolhouse was warm and foggy with smoke; the swirling haze humming with voices animated by bol. No-one paid much attention to the two unusually quiet and well dressed figures huddled at a table in the farthest corner. They leaned towards each other, a glint of watchful eyes from beneath the shadow of hoods.

"She has gained favour in some high places. It will have to be something unforgivable, something final." A low voice whispered.

"I agree. They are fools for trusting her. She sought only to save herself – and her lover." Another, higher pitched, voice spat; the contempt and hate seething and unmistakable.

"But what can the supposed saviour of the city do that will negate the new status she is carving for herself?" The first deeper voice pondered.

"There is_ one_ thing would result in her probable execution _and _show her for the untrustworthy slum whore she is. The best outcome we can hope for." The second voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper, its owner leaning in to speak directly into the ear of the other hooded figure.

"What is that?" The first voice breathed in surprised anticipation.

The higher pitched voice became clipped with excited triumph. "Sonea's unauthorised use of Black Magic."

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 1 Change

**Chapter 1. Change**

Akkarin looked around the narrow guest room that was once his own. Very little was different from when he lived here, just a short time ago. The former high lord sat comfortably in a chair, and yet he was surprised that he had no lingering feeling of belonging, no feeling of being usurped or pangs of regret for what might have been.

A sigh, so soft that he might have imagined it, whispered through the room. Akkarin looked up. He thought he saw the flick of a pale blue robe moving by one of the tables, and heard the faint echo of a man's bright laughter, but they were gone before he truly registered them. Ghosts of his own memories, and of some people, memories were all he had left. He swirled the wine around in his glass, lost in his thoughts. The uneasy pacing of the residences new occupant caught the younger man's attention.

"So, you are sure that the Sachakan King did not condone, or even authorise, the Ichani attack?" Balkan had asked the same question several times in the last six weeks and yet his anxiety could not be assuaged.

"I am as sure as I can be High Lord," Akkarin answered patiently. "I never saw anything during any of the mind reads I performed on the slaves to suggest their King was involved, or even knew about the Ichani intentions. Also, as I have explained, the social situation of the Ichani bears out the probability that they acted alone."

"Yes, yes. You have explained before. I am sorry for my constant interrogation Akkarin." Lord Balkan met Akkarin's gaze and smiled. "We have just been so complacent about Sachaka. I feel, well, slightly helpless. Until we can get some well placed spies to check the real situation, you are our best source of knowledge."

Akkarin's glance slipped past Balkan's as the High Lord spoke, looking out of the window in the direction of the Magicians Quarters. His dark eyes narrowed and a crease furrowed his brow. The high Lord studied his predecessor.

Akkarin had cut off his long black hair so that he looked more in keeping with men of his own age. Superficially at least, he did look younger, and yet there was something in his eyes that looked old beyond measure. A sea of suffering and pain welled behind the near black gaze that made it difficult to meet for long. Balkan had the feeling that somewhere the man that had been Akkarin the slave, Akkarin the secret defender and Akkarin the failed protector of those he loved most, was drowning; spluttering and floundering in an ocean of grief. And yet the man was so publically composed.

_Years of practice._ Balkan thought, also remembering that the man in front of him had killed many times, an uncomfortable subject that not many had dwelt on, and that the Guild had tried to keep within its walls. Balkan felt a shiver run down his spine. It was easy to forgot how dangerous Akkarin could be. Noting the direction of the Black Magician's gaze, he asked, "How is Sonea? Will she be ready to start some lessons with the new intake?"

Akkarin glanced back at the High Lord, a mask of calm covering his features.

"She is... recovering, physically at least. " He paused, as if contemplating whether to continue. He took a breath. "But her sleep is plagued with nightmares, she barely eats and she avoids contact with most people. She is frustrated with herself; at her inability to be who she was before." Akkarin sighed suddenly and took a slug of wine, his eyes narrowing."If I could enter her mind and pluck out those memories, I would, without a moments hesitation. Then only I would be tortured by knowing what happened. I do not know how to help her through this. I feel...; this is my fault...;I did not protect her...or the child."

The Black Magician quickly placed the wine glass down with elegant fingers and stood abruptly in one fluid movement, turning away from Lord Balkan and towards the door. The High Lord, taken aback at Akkarin's sudden and uncharacteristic unburdening, stood frozen, hoping words would come; his jaw worked but nothing came out.

"Sonea is determined to resume her studies, somehow ,and graduate. She wants to be... beyond reproach." Akkarin continued. "It has been arranged with Jerrick for the majority of her studies to take place through private tutorials, as you may know." The younger magician strode to the door. "I have been gone too long. I must get back. If you will excuse me."

Akkarin bowed to Balkan as is he had been doing it all his life, and he strode gracefully from the High Lord's residence, the door opening with equal familiarity.

Balkan sank into the chair Akkarin had just vacated.

_If any deserve peace and contentment, _he thought,_ it is those two, but my heart tells me it will be a difficult road before they reach the comfort of home._

* * *

"Well _I_ think it is a disgrace. Mother and father said so, and I agree." Four nervous and non-committal faces glanced up from their plates. The novice who gulped down food in between giving voice to opinions that were not so readily shared in the Guild these days, seemed oblivious to the attention he was attracting. He was newly recruited and from one of the most powerful Houses in Kyralia, and was one of the much needed recent additions to the Guild; his fellow students were mindful of not causing offense. The boy continued his tirade.

"I don't care how they've dressed it up, but the former high lord was our true saviour, and not that slum girl, " he spat. "Have you seen her in full length robes?" He asked, his tone scathing and incredulous. "I've seen bigger ten year olds at Court! Mother and father are not at all pleased that I may have to take some lessons with her. Lord Akkarin had no choice but to use black magic to protect us; we know that now. He is honourable, one of us, and the fact he could have killed us all years ago and did not, speaks of his trustworthiness. But _her_ ? Who is she; who are her parents? Who is to say she did not see her chance of gaining power and took it. She has friends in the Thieves they say; maybe _they_ are who she is loyal to. It's not like she can undergo a mind read to prove her loyalty- how convenient! " The novice looked around at the impervious faces and mistook their silence as encouragement. He took a breath and continued.

"Just because Lord Akkarin has some misguided loyalty and attraction to her. How he can even touch her is beyond me." His nose wrinkled in disgust, "all these rumours about what that Ichani did to her ; I'll warrant that she was a willing participant - slum whore..."

"That is enough Baren!" A sharp low voice hissed from behind the young novice. Baren looked around to meet the disapproving and angry stares of a group of older novices. He recognised the speaker as Regin, the novice that Sonea had challenged and defeated years ago. Baren's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but Regin silenced him with a gesture.

"Firstly, _young_ Baren, you will not be taking any lessons with _Lady _Sonea. She is a final year novice, and advanced for that, so your mother and father can rest easy." Regin's voice was soft and strained with barely controlled anger, and he spoke quickly.

"Secondly, I may excuse your misguided ignorance as to who defeated the final Ichani as you will not have seen Balkan's projections of the event. Your king, however, did, and he is in no doubt about the importance of Sonea's role in the defeat of our enemy. I suggest you follow his lead."

Regin's voice became dangerously low now and there was a scraping of wood on stone as he raised himself up slightly from the bench on which he sat. He leaned menacingly close to Baren.

"And thirdly, if you had endured a fraction of what Sonea did at the hands of that Ichani, you would be blubbering for your mama and would never leave her skirt tails again! She was no 'willing participant'", he grated. "My cousin works at the Healing Quarter and told me of Sonea's injuries when they brought her in. I won't give you nightmares by detailing them."

Regin turned away from, the now cowering, novice. Then he glanced back and spoke through his teeth.

"Oh, and if I ever hear you call her a 'slum whore' again, I'll personally make sure that Lord Akkarin hears about it, and I suggest you tell any like minded friends of yours I'll offer the same courtesy to them."

Regin finally turned and viciously addressed the plate of food in front of him. His companions continued to glower darkly at the younger novices and other disapproving glances were thrown in their direction from diners in the food hall who had overheard the exchange.

"And to think I would have said such things once. It shames me." Regin muttered.

"I don't blame you for berating Baren, but tread carefully Regin. There are enough who still share his views and could make life difficult for Sonea." Alend said softly. "I've heard some people whisper some dark things about her. Akkarin as a black magician they will just about accept, but Sonea is a different matter. Change has come and will continue , but there are plenty who are so fearful of the unknown that they will consider no price too high to preserve the world they know, and their place within it."

"What have you heard? "Regin asked, looking up, a frown knitting his brow.

"I won't add to the rumours . Besides this person will know it was me who talked if word of their views gets out. I would rather remain in their confidence."

Regin held Alend's gaze as if gauging the sincerity of his words. "O.k. Be careful then." He finally muttered.

"Has anyone spoken with Sonea since the invasion? I've barely seen her. Is she really to return to classes?" Bina looked around enquiringly at the faces at the table.

Regin had requested to see Sonea after she had left the Healing Quarter. Rothen and Akkarin had allowed it grudgingly, but only briefly. He had wanted to apologise properly for his behaviour in that first year, to let her know that his opinion of her had changed. As he thought of the meeting a faint colour rose in his cheeks and he began pushing the food around on his plate.

"I have," he said in answer to the question, " but not for long. She looked like a different person. So thin, even more so than before, and her eyes were, well, haunted is the only way I can describe them – though she barely looked at me."

"Is it true – what they say happened to her when she was captive?" Issle asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes." Regin replied. "My cousin told me she was in a bad way. They don't know quite how she managed to do what she did after what Kariko ..." He trailed off and took a breath. "Sheer determination I think," he grimaced, but a smile tugged at his lips.

"I remember _that_ about Sonea very well. But I also think seeing Lord Akkarin close to defeat acted as a powerful incentive." Regin smiled openly now as he saw the expectant look on the girls faces as they leaned conspiratorily across the table.

"Oooooo! Do tell us Regin!" Issle pleaded. "I know you're holding out on something. They say he has barely left her side,_ and_ that they share a room in Rothen's apartments. Oh, do tell what you know about Sonea and Akkarin. Pleeeease!"

Regin laughed shaking his head. "The darkest times the Guild has known for centuries, and yet the love of gossip still prevails."

Issle sniffed. "I am grateful to Sonea also, but we must not entirely forget her origins. Personally, I think Akkarin takes his gratitude too far, _if_ the rumours are true, which _I'm_ not sure they are." She sniffed again and delicately placed her knife and fork on her plate.

"With all the young ladies at Court falling over themselves to be noticed by Akkarin, why would he choose a former slum dweller, no matter what loyalty she has shown?"

"Fancy your chances Issle?" Vallon teased. Issle blushed scarlet.

"No,... I,... well , ...it's just that..." she stammered, finally giving up.

"If there is something to the rumours, that will be a personal alliance of the Guilds two black magicians and that will only be fuel for the fire of the already discontented." There was no trace of a smile on Regin's face now as he turned back to Alend.

"Better keep your ear firmly to the ground; we owe Sonea that much at least. There are too few sitting in this food hall as it is. Without Sonea, none of us would be here. Remember that, and make sure others do; She is one of us now." The faces at the table nodded soberly, all thoughts of more frivolous things forgotten.

* * *

Rothen looked up at the soft rap at the door. With a slight exertion of will the door opened and the tall figure of Akkarin glided in. With a nod to Rothen, he went over to where Sonea sat in her usual window seat. Akkarin stooped and kissed her on one pale cheek, smoothing an unruly strand of hair absently. Sonea held his eyes as he withdrew and smiling, took his hand.

"I have told you Akkarin, you do not have to knock. This is your home until your new residence is finished." Rothen said irritably.

Akkarin gave a lop-sided smile in apology and sat in the chair opposite Rothen and next to Sonea. "Lady Tya did not think you had read this one." He placed a book on the low table in front of him, still clasping Sonea's hand.

"You are cold," he stated, bringing her fingers to his cheek. "Do you want a blanket? Have you eaten? – that will warm you."

"Akkarin you have been in the room one minute and you are fussing; I am fine – truly." Sonea smiled kindly at him as she spoke. " Rothen has been with me, and Jonna only left an hour ago." Sonea glanced out of the window at the low sun, turning the slate roof tiles of the University to a burnished gold. " It feels warmer today. I thought we might take a walk in the gardens after we have eaten. Let Rothen have his rooms to himself for a while;it must feel like he has a child living with him again, looking after me when you are not here." She turned back to see Rothen look horrified, a protest forming on his lips. She gave a short laugh.

"Oh please, " and she freed herself from Akkarin's grasp and took hold of Rothen's hand. "Not so serious Rothen - I can still joke can't I?"

At that moment Tania bustled into the room expertly carrying a tray laden with steaming bowls and a fragrant smell filled the room. She laid it at the small dining table . Tania looked sideways at Akkarin with amazed consternation on her face.

"How that man does it I will never know, but Takan seems to time his cooking to the exact moment of your arrival lord. If I did not know better, I would swear he was a magician and used mind communication. The way his food tastes, I really do think he is a magician. I have tried to learn some of his secrets, but he gives nothing away." Tania frowned in annoyance. She glanced at Sonea gesturing to one of the bowls.

"Takan says this dish is one of your favourites Lady, and that he will be offended if you leave any." The servant flashed an innocent smile at the magicians, but there was a conspiratorial glint in her eye as she caught Akkarin's glance. "Enjoy!" And she did a small courtesy and left the room.

The three magicians rose to move to the dining table, Sonea's movement still slightly stiff from a broken bone she had suffered in her leg. Rothen spooned a generous helping on to Sonea's plate before she had a chance to serve herself. She took a deep breath. _Now,_ she thought , _before I change my mind._

"I would like to see the progress of the new Healing Quarter. I thought I would go down tomorrow . It is to be my place of work after all."

Sonea couldn't help but smile at the shocked faces of the two men opposite her, Rothen's fork suspended half way to his mouth. Akkarin brought his hand to his mouth coughing violently.

"Don't die on me will you?" She asked him , and Rothen guessed from the look Akkarin shot her between spasms, that they shared a private joke. He finally cleared his throat.

"That is... good Sonea. I will come with you."

"I can act as Escort. " Rothen began.

"No. Thank you; both of you. I arranged for Vinara to escort me. You two have places to be, and people to see. You cannot spend your days babysitting me. I am feeling a little better . I think I am ready to face the world." She smiled and touched Akkarin's hand.

__Really. _Sonea thought at him,_ I do want to see the new Quarter, and I have to venture out of the Guild at some point. Vinara will look after me; who better? _

Sonea tried to give a look she was once so adept at; one of determined stubbornness, but she was afraid that either man would look deeper and see other emotions, so she quickly looked down at the plate in front of her. She took a breath to steady her resolve, and deliberately loaded her fork. She would eat every morsel; that, at least, would please them. She savoured the food, actually tasting it for the first time since before the invasion. She smiled at Rothen and Akkarin who continued to glance at her uneasily as they talked over Guild matters.

_Yes, _she thought, _I am ready; I am stronger. I will be fine with Vinara there. They are dead. Gone. I will not let them control me anymore. _As she ate, she resolutely ignored the worm of doubt she felt in the pit of her stomach – the voice deep within her that whispered to her soul of a loss and pain that,as yet, she had not truly faced.

**A/N. Sonea will sink a little bit deeper in the next chapter, sorry for being depressing, but she will find herself again! If you have taken the time to read this, thankyou; if you could spare a couple of more minutes to review, triple thanks ! - it really does encourage writers to carry stories on if they get some feed back.**


	3. Chapter 2 A woman Scorned

**Chapter Two.- A Woman scorned.**

Sonea crouched down and thanked the small boy for the flowers he pressed into her hands. She dare not think where the thread bare clothed child had found the small blooms. She ruffled his hair as she straightened.

"They love you Sonea. They know without question what you did for them, and the impact you continue to have for them." Vinara peered sideways at the frail looking woman who walked besides her. Vinara guessed that Sonea had not dwelt too much on what she had actually achieved in defeating Kariko. The healer knew, however, with certainty that Kariko was never far from her thoughts. The black magician stared ahead, her gaze fixed, but Vinara thought her eyes glistened.

"You should be proud Sonea. Look at what we just saw; a healing quarter in the Outer Circle! You did that. Think of how many peoples lives will be bettered because of you." Vinara paused and said softly, "I am proud of you."

A tear escaped and rolled slowly down Sonea's cheek. She tried to smile and quickly brushed the tear away. In her days in the Slums , Sonea had quickly learnt that tears served little purpose, and brought you little respect, and she had not shed many in her early life. In the past six weeks she felt she had spilled a lifetimes worth.

"I know how I should feel." Sonea did not look up to meet the Healers eyes. "And sometimes I do feel that. But mostly I just feel relief that the people I love are alive, and guilt because so many others loved ones aren't." Sonea suddenly felt chilled and rubbed at her arms as she continued to walk.

"And I..." She glanced at Vinara suddenly feeling foolish. "I have a sense of foreboding I cannot explain." She openly shivered now and hunched her shoulders.

"I hear their whispers, and see them stare – the members of the Guild. I was only barely accepted before, but now I am something they cannot understand. Something they considered evil, but that they must embrace for their own safety."

Vinara considered the dark haired woman next to her. She looked barely more than a child; a child who carried an unbearable weight.

"I will not lie to you Sonea. Any black magician in the Guild would be hard to accept for many, no matter what they had done; but that the wielder of such potential power comes from the lowest class and is female, will be insufferable for some. You must prove your trustworthiness to them, they cannot argue with that." The older woman reached and took the girl's hand and squeezed it.

"You have a lot to deal with child. Do not be afraid to ask for help. More people than you know care about you."

Vinara's words became suddenly distant to Sonea's ears. As they continued to walk back to the Guild, the black magician glanced at the faces that passed. Men, women and children stared from under lashes, whispered behind hands, some openly pointing. The street became busy now as it was the time of the midday meal. People knocked into her , jostling her, eager to make the most of their short break from work. Sonea recoiled and blinked wide eyed. The strangers' faces blurred and morphed into a dark skinned face, all alike. She felt his hot breath on her skin, heard his mocking laughter ring in her ears, felt his cruel hands on her body.

Vinara's voice hummed in Sonea's ear. She strained to hear the words, but they were lost, strangely distorted, as if under water. Sonea's shallow breathing reverberated in her head, she turned it from side to side slowly, trying to clear it, a confused frown knitted her brow. Her dark eyes found focus on a small baby being rocked by it's mother. The woman intent only on the child in her arms ; fixed with love to the eyes of her infant. The baby's brother played a game of stones on the floor nearby. The round pebbles knocked against one another in the boy's quick fingers. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound became the only clear thing in Sonea's mind.

Sonea suddenly broke free of Vinara's hand. "I need,... to be,...some space,... can't breathe..." She ran with surprising speed towards the gates of the Guild that were some forty paces ahead. She sped through and on into the university. Faces raced by; puzzled, confused, suspicious. She did not heed them. She ran on and on; up and up, recalling the way from memory, knowing she had been given authorisation. All the time she could hear the sound of the stone; felt it knock at her heart. Knock. Knock. Knock. It was hard and round. Smooth and cold.

As she reached the highest place in the university, Sonea breathed hard and long, filling her lungs with cold air. She swayed, light-headed, and clung to the railings of the roof. Her knees buckled as the stone dragged at her , pulling her downwards; far heavier than the lost child inside her ever had been – the creator of this weight. A thing invisible to the naked eye that symbolised everything that had been taken from her.

The sand and pebbles of her first grief , the loss of her mother, the hardships of slum life, her body had ground down and accepted; absorbing them as specs of dust – forever part of her, but manageable, circulating smoothly, the blood of life. But this stone. This stone knocked at her heart, bruising it; refusing to break down and move on.

Sonea sank to the cold tiles of the roof. She lay and stared up at the grey and hopeless sky, blinking as soft icy flakes began to fall, dancing slowly in the calm cold air. The beautiful and peaceful scene contrasting brutally with the images playing out in her head. Pale lids closed on dark eyes and Sonea curled into a tight ball, her hands over her face, and she cried. Cried for what she once was, cried for shattered hopes, and cried for what she had lost. The icy flakes fell silently on her, settling in her raven hair and on her dark cloak. A numbness crept on her limbs, but she didn't care, only hoped the cold would spread deeper, until it froze the ache she felt inside.

* * *

"Come Alend. Your sister told me you had a good appetite. I don't want her to hear that I have starved you." The red robed female magician refilled her glass with more wine, the slightly glazed expression to her eyes suggesting that she had drunk too much already.

Lady Alya was a rare thing in the Guild; a female warrior magician. She was a friend of Alend's sister and a peer of Akkarin and Lorlens', having graduated in the same year. She was also a second cousin of the King, a connection of which she reminded people often. Alya was a strong magician; clever, aloof and ambitious – qualities she once shared with a fellow novice, and a similarity which led many to speculate that a match between them could be likely. Whilst both families encouraged, and Alya manipulated and plotted, Akkarin only showed a passing interest in the warrior. He had wanted to travel, to escape the Guild after graduation, and on his return, for reasons now apparent, he had spurned any interest shown by the opposite sex. As an undisputed beauty, Alya was not used to being refused, and that she was turned down by the very man she had set her sights on for marriage, was something she had never quite come to terms with.

Alend casually stretched back in his chair, raising both arms above his head. "Really Alya, I am full, and happy to report to Brienna that you have fed me well!" He paused assessing the moment.

"So, how are things in the warrior camp? Are the new novices from the merchant families settling in well? I suppose it has helped that Sonea paved the way for them. Indeed, she is from an even less salubrious background." Alend grimaced, feigning distaste.

"We tolerate them; we must for the safety of the Guild. We need them, but I do not like it." Alya rose unsteadily to her feet from the dining table and moved to a window, her clear gray eyes glared as coldly as the white snowflakes that fluttered gracefully in the air as they began to fall. Her gaze regained some of its focus.

"As for the slum dweller, the king is a fool for trusting her. _Her_ ! A black magician! Trusted with the most powerful weapon we know of! Pity Lord Fergun or your friend did not get rid of her in the first year." Alya muttered, the colour rising in her cheeks.

Alend could not help himself and the words came before he could stop them. "If they had, we might all be dead now."

Alya moved over to a silk covered couch and sank down, a small globe light springing into life above her causing her fair hair to glisten like spun gold. "We do not know Akkarin would not have overcome Kariko. And if he did not, Kariko had used much of his power in the battle with him; maybe Balkan and the others could have defeated the Ichani leader." Alend swallowed hard and fought back a retort to such desperate attempts to avoid being indebted to Sonea. He remained in his chair at the table, but turned to face the warrior, schooling his expression and his thoughts into a mask complicit calmness.

"Where some have failed, others may succeed, however. Garrel should have known better than to use a novice to do his work for him," Alya continued, as if to herself, forgetting for a moment the young man in her room. She glowered darkly into her wine glass. "He thought I was not good enough for him, and now it seems he has chosen a slum whore. I will see that arrogant smile of his wiped off his face," she grated between her teeth.

Alend placed his glass on the table. _Careful, _he thought, _careful. _He licked his lip, which were suddenly dry, and spoke, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

"Garrel, you say? Yes, Regin did say something about his uncle wanting to get rid of the girl once and for all." Alend cleared his throat, hoping that Alya had had enough wine to loosen her tongue, and that his bluff about Garrel did not backfire. This might be his best chance to get information; who knows when she may ask him to dinner again.

"I think he is deluding himself, however. Sonea has new allies in high places, as you know too well. It is wishful thinking... " Alend trailed off, hoping Alya would take the bait.

"Wishful thinking?" The warriors eyebrows shot up and a smile twisted her lips, making her pretty mouth ugly. "You underestimate us..."

At that moment, a cacophony of mental calls reverberated in both magicians' heads and their gazes became fixed as they listened.

"Sonea is missing." Alend breathed, cursing to himself at the inopportune moment of the distraction.

Alya's smile returned, widening. "Maybe she has saved us the trouble..."

* * *

Osen stood at the centre of the magicians that had gathered in the courtyard of the university, summoned by Vinara's mental call of concern.

"She is not responding to anybodies call?" The Administrator could not hide the concern in his voice ; not only for Sonea, but also concern that the whereabouts of a black magician were unknown and she was not answering mental calls, including Akkarin and Rothens'. The anxiety was only heightened by the gathering crowd of Guild members, attracted by the group of higher magicians huddling in their cloaks, too preoccupied to use magic to warm themselves.

Osen turned to Akkarin. Seeing the dark torment and fear in the black magician's eyes, and the clenching muscle in his jaw, Osen felt a pang of sympathy for the former high lord that vaguely surprised him.

"Is there somewhere she might go? Some place she was fond of that we may have overlooked? "His breath was a fog in the cold air.

"No." Akkarin's voice was tight with emotion. "Not that hasn't already been checked."

"Then we have to face the possibility that she has run. That she has decided not to stay in the Guild under the conditions we have set." Lord Garrel's voice was rasping and louder than was necessary to converse with those around him. The words carried and there were murmurings amongst the crowd.

Akkarin turned towards him, his face murderous in an uncontrolled mask of fury, sharply reminding those who saw it of what Akkarin was capable of. At that moment the brown robed figure of a second year novice pushed its way through the crowd towards the higher magicians. The girls face was flushed and she stammered as she realised who she was addressing.

"Please... I...I just heard about the Lady Sonea being missing. I saw her, about an hour ago. She...she was running up one of the staircases that leads to the roof. I'm sorry, I didn't think to question it; she looked like she didn't want to be bothered. I'm sorry...!" She called to the retreating back of Akkarin as he ran towards the doors of the university. The crowd opened to let him through, Lord Balkan and Rothen following behind.

* * *

Akkarin stepped onto the roof gasping for breath. He peered through the falling snow, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears with anxiety and exertion. At first he couldn't see her, and then he caught sight of a mound of snow, with blackness showing through some of the contours. He hurried forwards, his feet slipping on the snow covered tiles. In an instant he was on his knees, gathering her to him, long fingers gently brushing the snow from her hair and face. Her small frame was limp in his arms, her head lolled back and her lips were blue.

"Sonea, " Akkarin breathed, his face as pale as bone. He laid his palm against a cold cheek and sent his consciousness into hers, holding his breath though he did not know it. He bowed his head and closed his eyes against the silent tears that ran down his face.

"Akkarin! Is she ok ?" Rothen called from the doorway where he now stood with Balkan, their rapid breathing creating a swirling mist.

"She will be," the black haired man murmured into Sonea's hair. "She will be." He opened his dark eyes as he spoke and looked into Sonea's face and saw a faint pinkness returning as he sent healing energy into her. He carefully laid her back down on the tiles and, standing, took off his cloak. He then stooped and wrapped the cloak around her and lifted her into his arms, her cheek against his thrumming heart. Akkarin created a globe of warm air around them and walked towards the door.

An even larger throng of people had gathered now in the courtyard, an excited and nervous buzz of low voices filling the air. As Akkarin emerged from the university cradling Sonea, a hush fell on the gathering as they moved back once more to let the black magicians pass. Many lowered their gazes, shamed at their frenzied speculations as to why Sonea had gone missing, when the reason now seemed obvious. Those who did glance up witnessed Akkarin's tortured face as he stared straight ahead, his black lashes wet and his eyes glassy, like shining jet.

"That settles it then. The rumours are true. " Bina turned to Issle and spoke under her breath as Akkarin walked by. Issle looked at Bina questioningly and the other smiled wryly. "No-one could see that face and doubt Lord Akkarin's feelings for Sonea."

Two other magicians huddled slightly away from the rest, also spoke as Akkarin passed by with Sonea.

"Pity. I thought she had done our work for us." Lady Alya whispered in a soft voice.

"Looks like we do have to come up with something ourselves. I have been thinking about those first weeks she was in the Guild." Garrel spoke into Alya's ear, a neutral expression fixed on his face. "Fergun held one of her slum friends hostage so she would do as he asked. Worked too, until Akkarin freed him. I think love and loyalty are overrated emotions, and ones that may well be Sonea's downfall."

Alya's lips pursed in contemplation and then her graceful eyebrows rose in sudden enlightenment. Garrel followed her gaze to where a woman, a child held at her hip, ran to meet Akkarin as he carried Sonea towards the Magicians Quarters.

"That's Sonea's aunt and cousin isn't it?" Alya asked uncertainly, looking to Garrel for confirmation.

"Mmmmmmm..." was Garrel's only reply, frowning. "We must talk, but not here. The usual place, next freeday at twelve noon", and he stalked towards his colleagues. "What a relief. She will be ok?" Alya heard Garrel say as she turned, her cold stare lingering on the small child who now trotted after his mother and the black magicians.

**Please review! Every little helps!**


	4. Chapter 3 Proposals

**Chapter three.-Proposals**

Akkarin glanced up from the book he was reading. He smiled as he laid it down on the table next to him. Sonea sat curled in one of Rothen's guest chairs, her hair cascading like a dark waterfall over the edge of the arm on which her head rested, her breathing the soft steady rhythm of sleep. He leaned forward and gently stroked her colourless cheek with one finger, tracing the pink line of a healing scar. Akkarin's smile vanished. Vinara and the Healers had worked miracles on Sonea's injuries. Many of the cuts she had suffered had been superficial, and whilst numerous, were already near invisible silvery lines. Akkarin guessed that this cut Kariko had made to Sonea's cheek had been deliberately and cruelly deeper; not just an opening in the skin to drain power, but a brand to mark a female slave. Akkarin had seen it done before.

The black magician sighed as he smoothed her hair. It had been a week now, since he had carried her down from the University roof. The sudden wave of realisation and shock she had experienced that day had seen her recovery take a step backwards, but, as Vinara pointed out, at least now Sonea was dealing fully with what she had suffered, and so might come to terms with it.

Akkarin sat back in his chair, watching her, a familiar feeling of guilt gnawing at him from the inside out. A familiar thought took hold in his mind: she would not have suffered if not for him, he should not have told her about the Ichani. And yet Akkarin knew it was not just Takan's insistence that he share his burden which had led him to confide in Sonea; it had been, his then unacknowledged, feelings for his novice. His need for her to trust him and think well of him. He had been selfish, he knew. He had not overly dwelt on the danger his confession by the Spring that day had put the girl in, because he had been unprepared for her almost instant and fierce loyalty. It had been that loyalty that had finally pushed Akkarin's feelings for his novice into sharp focus, like a fog on a mirror that is suddenly wiped away to reveal a clear and true reflection.

Now that, against all the odds, both black magicians had survived, the former High Lord was determined that Sonea's needs would come before anything else. She deserved that much. He thought of the King's plea for him to take up the position of High Lord again, and his parents disbelieving faces when he had made clear his intentions towards Sonea. He recalled the fleeting whispers he had heard on the edge of his mind as he passed other magicians in the University. They were puzzled by his obvious care and protection of his former novice. They speculated as to what it might mean. The embers of growing rumours about the black magicians' relationship being fanned into flames by the current living arrangements in Rothen's apartments.

The people that mattered were well aware of the situation, and no-one else dare ask. It amused Akkarin to keep the Guild members guessing. They had inadvertently had control of his life for many years, and he felt he owed them nothing more. The Guild was safe from attack for the foreseeable future, and he had accepted the limitations that the higher magicians and the King had demanded, but he would live his life within those constraints as he wished. And he wished for nothing more than to take Sonea's pain away, and with it his own. He wished to see that stubborn spark in her eye, that determination that had equipped her so well in her early life; one of the reasons he had found his feelings for his novice changing.

As Akkarin pondered, Sonea suddenly became restless, her mouth murmuring inaudible words, reaching out clawing hands and snatching at invisible assailants. As Akkarin reached to grip her arm, her head jolted upright and her eyes flew open, her face drained of the little colour it had, and a single word tore from her lips in horror and anguish:

"NO!"

Akkarin's hand was rebuffed by an unseen barrier. A strong shield had sprung up around her; a thing she had not been capable of when her nightmare had been a reality. Akkarin held up his hands in a placatory and pleading gesture.

"Sonea, it's me - Akkarin. You are safe now." He breathed. Her eyes, lost in her nightmare, suddenly flickered and focused on the man leaning towards her. Her shield dropped abruptly. Sonea stared, blinking at Akkarin for a long moment.

"Why do you stay with me?" She suddenly whispered, so softly that he barely heard. Before she could stop herself, words she had not had the courage to say these past weeks, came tumbling from her lips.

"You could be living for the first time in years; could truly be with a woman who could show you love. Yet you stay here with me, day after day – here in my cage." Sonea smiled a humourless smile.

"You don't owe me anything Akkarin." She said gently, looking away. "I chose my own way. You...you don't have to be with me out of misplaced guilt, or because of what happened between us in Sachaka. Things are different now; we never expected to live. That can make a person do things they otherwise wouldn't. I won't blame you if you walk away. I won't make a fuss; Kariko left me with that much pride."

Akkarin reached forward and took her hands, emotion clouding his dark eyes. He opened his mouth, but said nothing, stunned by her unexpected words.

Misinterpreting his silence, Sonea pulled away from him, her selfless bravado short lived, and she hung her dark head, a curtain of hair obscuring her face.

"Just don't pity me, that's all. I'll be fine." She managed to force the words out, shutting her eyes against the tears that welled there.

Akkarin found his voice at last. "_Pity you_? Don't you know me better than that?" He caught hold of her hands again and, when she tried to resist, pulled her forcibly to him and held her tight.

"Is this what you really want? For me to walk away from you; pretend to the world I was nothing more than a concerned guardian, watching over you until you recovered?" His voice was low and tense, but her lack of response told him what he needed to know. "You would do it for me then? " He said incredulously. " So I could become the powerful and important Lord Akkarin, marry some girl from the Houses and parade at court every day?" Her head, under his chin, nodded weakly.

He touched her cheek gently with long fingers, drawing back to look in her face. "I don't know what to say. So much love, so much courage..."

She shook her head and lowered her eyes. "I am not brave. I was afraid... of him." Her voice was barely audible, and she spoke as if to herself. " I would have begged him to kill me if I'd had the strength."

Akkarin hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. He held her glittering gaze as his mind reached out and touched hers ,and he felt the depth of her fear and despair. His heart constricted within him, paining him.

"He cannot hurt you anymore Sonea." He paused." And _I_ know _you_. This cage," he gestured to the room, " will not hold you forever; and when you fly free, my heart would soar with you"- he took a breath - "if you would be my wife." His burning gaze challenged her to look deep into his heart and see the truth of what lay beating at its core.

"I love you Sonea – always; not because of guilt, or any other transient reason. I love _you_. The girl who lived with me for nearly two years , and challenged me every day to question the beliefs I was brought up with. The girl who never let fear crush her spirit, or tarnish the purity of her soul. The woman who blossomed before my eyes from an unsure novice , into the formidable- and beautiful- magician I see today. And when you _are _ready, _whenever_ that may be, I will marry you – if you wish it."

She held his gaze searchingly, her own challenge held there; a faint spark of her old self kindling in the dark pools of her eyes.

"And you would be content for them to whisper, _There goes the famous Lord Akkarin – he married a slum girl_. ? " Her chin held some of its old defiance.

The ghost of a half smile touched his lips. "I would." He said softly, and he leaned forward and kissed a pale cheek.

* * *

Over a month had passed since Sonea had hit her lowest ebb in the highest place in the University. The weather had turned warmer; the air fresh and full of the promise of new life. Shrubs and flowers that had been planted in the devastated gardens started to bud, the new green of leaves and growth a physical reminder that where a seed was planted, life, strong and new could grow. With more and more novices being recruited by the week, in a few short years the Guild would be vibrant with youthful magicians, all backgrounds represented, offering new challenges, but also bringing a balance that the Guild had never known before.

These changes could not be further from the contemplations of the magician who casually strolled around the gardens. To any objective observer she looked as if she was considering nothing more than the gentle hues of the blossom petals beneath her feet, and the tender shoots which she brushed with smooth, elegant fingers as she walked by. Her face was an image of serene beauty, the intelligent coldness of her gaze carefully controlled and muted.

Lady Alya had learnt over the years that great beauty, great magical power, and great intelligence, made for a threatening combination in a Guild and Kyralian Court dominated by men. Intimidated by a power and intelligence to match or exceed their own, and with a weapon of beauty that struck at their weakest point, most men had avoided, or had sought to humiliate Alya in her early adult life. Her own parents had expected nothing more of her than to be a pawn in a game of political matrimony. They did not object to her unusual choice of the warrior skills as they, like most others, thought it was a move to secure the hand of, the clearly ambitious, Akkarin.

Indeed, this had been one reason why Alya had sought the red robes, but she also knew that she excelled in warrior skills above all else, and would not let her gender preclude her from pursuing her dreams; every High Lord in recent memory had been a warrior – why not the first High Lady?

Alya's eyes narrowed as she recalled the hopes and ambitions of her youth, and not all of them concerning her desire for power. Not just her ego had been bruised with Akkarin's departure after graduation, but her heart also; though Akkarin had never given Alya false hope that their relationship could be anything more than a casual dalliance. As time wore on and Akkarin did not return, her wounded heart festered and did not heal. As she found herself also thwarted in her attempts to gain positions of responsibility in the Guild - passed over for less talented and older men - her heart turned cold and black. Unable to disown her beauty or her magical power, she realised that she was more accepted if she concealed her intelligence, and became the frivolous ornament that people were more comfortable with.

When Akkarin arrived back at the Guild, thin and dishevelled, Alya was a senior teacher in warrior skills. Her frozen heart flickered back to life as Akkarin was quickly embraced by the Guild and became High Lord. If she could not be High Lady, then being married to the High Lord would be an acceptable consolation prize. When she had met with Akkarin's cold indifference, as if they had never shared an intimate moment, an arrow of ice finally pierced Alya's heart to its core, shattering it beyond repair.

And so, the woman who turned her beautiful smile on the small boy who ran into her legs as she walked the gardens, felt nothing for his childish face. Felt no maternal strings pull at her heart as he looked at her with large innocent eyes; for even a spider's silken thread could not have found a fragment of Alya's heart big enough to cling to.

"Oh my! Are you alright little one?" Alya fussed as she crouched down to pet the boy. He recoiled shyly at first, but Alya smiled wider and persisted.

"You take a fast corner." She raised a knowing eyebrow. "I bet no-one can catch you in a game of tag." The boy giggled and shook his head.

"Shall I tell you a secret?" Alya whispered. The boy leaned his dark head of messy curls nearer to Alya's long golden hair, and she spoke into his ear softly. "No-one ever caught me either; but I would always get them, and when I did, I'd do this!" Alya's hand shot out and tickled the boy under his chin and he squirmed in helpless laughter. And so his mother found the pair, smiling and laughing, as she rounded the corner, red and flustered, holding a crying toddler.

"I am so sorry Lady. Kerrel! How many times have I told you to stay where I can see you; come here!" The woman scolded as the boy ran to his mothers skirts.

"Please, it was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going. Too busy admiring the new growth." Alya spoke in soothing tones and ruffled the boy's hair as she straightened from her crouched position. The little girl on the woman's hip continued to howl into her mother's shoulder.

"Sorry again Lady...?" The woman bobbed a courtesy.

"Alya. Lady Alya. Don't be sorry; you look as if you have your hands full."

"Yes; they are cared for in the Guild nursery, but I do so love to see them on my midday break; to let them get some air a while." The woman's mouth pulled in a disapproving line. "It's just that Kerrel here would rather go on adventures than play at his mother's feet, and you can see - and hear – that Hania is _still _in the crying stage!" The woman huffed and transferred the little girl to her other hip. Alya bent down again next to Kerrel.

"How old are you; Kerrel isn't it?"

"I'm nearly four." The boy answered proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Now, I remember being your age and wanting to go on adventures. I was always being scolded for coming home with a dirty face and a torn dress." Alya grimaced in a childish way and Kerrel smiled again. The warrior looked up at the woman, her eyes imploring.

"I could help you with him if you like. I am here most days around this time. I like to get some air between classes also; teaching young adults can be tiresome at times. I prefer this age, if I'm honest, " she said nodding at Kerrel. " He's such a lovely boy. You must be so proud...?"

"Jonna." Sonea's aunt supplied. "But I couldn't; you must have better things to do than watch a servants child." Jonna turned pink and inclined her head.

Alya's face became solemn and she cast her eyes down, reaching out to stroke the boy's dark curls.

"You would be doing _me_ the favour. I do not grow any younger and I despair of finding a husband to give me a family. I do so love children; especially ones with such a playful spirit about them. I rarely see my nieces and nephews ,and their spirit has been sacrificed for the duties at Court." Alya smiled disdainfully, but inwardly held her breath, hoping that her ploy had worked.

"Well, I am here, as I said, most days at this time; I have no objections, of course Lady, to your entertaining Kerrel - if it pleases you."

Alya stood and laughed brightly, the sound tinkling like bells around the gardens.

"It does please me. More than you know." The magician said, and Jonna could not help but smile at her obvious pleasure.

"I think little Kerrel and I will have some wonderful adventures together..."

**There will be some real action soon ! - I promise. Probably the chapter after next. In the meantime, I am giving in to a couple of requests for some action of a different kind in the next chapter! No smut though, this will continue to be rated T. Very nervous about writting that, so reviews will help get my creative juices flowing! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 4 Of Night Rooms and nighttimes

**Hi! Just to say that this is a very long one. Sorry! I tried to cut and paste it to other chapters, but it didn't quite work, so here it is. Also, very AkkarinXSonea, so fans of other pairings - be warned!**

**Chapter 4. – Of Night Rooms and night-time.**

Rothen squinted into the late afternoon sun, shading his eyes with his hand. He saw the two black robed figures approaching across the gardens towards him; the woman barely reaching the chest of the tall dark haired man who clasped her hand tightly. Rothen's soul sighed. He knew after tonight he would loose part of Sonea forever. Though the alchemist had known of their betrothal for several weeks, tonight Akkarin and Sonea were to make their intention to marry public on Sonea's first visit to the Night Room. Tomorrow the pair were to move in to the completed Black Magicians Residence; a slightly smaller mirror image of the High Lord's Residence on the opposite corner of the gardens.

_This is how it feels to loose a daughter, _Rothen thought.

Sonea freed herself from Akkarin's grasp and hurried forward to meet Rothen. The low sun glinted off her hair revealing strands of glowing auburn, unseen in the cooler light of day. Her features were cast into shadow, but Rothen could tell from the tension in her step that she felt an uncommon nervousness . As she reached him she gripped his arm. He was right; her dark eyes glinted with a shy uneasiness and a faint delicate colour rose in her cheek.

"Thank you, Rothen, for coming with us. I hate the thought of being the centre of attention. I know you will deflect as many people as you can." She said grimacing.

" How could I miss the betrothal announcement of the closest in this world I have to a daughter?" Rothen smiled down at her and felt a surge of pride for this fragile, almost childlike, woman. He had always been amazed at the incongruous physical vessel that contained such a strength of mind. And she had indeed shown strength of mind in the three months since the Ichani invasion. At times he still caught her eyes fixed on nothing, staring at a scene only she could see, but her general solemnity was fading as she became driven by her studies and the organisation and running of the new Healing Quarter in the Outer Circle.

Rothen was suddenly startled as Sonea reached up on the balls of her feet and planted a kiss firmly on his cheek, her eyes shining. As she withdrew, she took both of his hands in hers.

"Thank you. For everything." She said softly as Akkarin approached behind her. She gave his hands a final squeeze and turned to smile at Akkarin as he came to stand next to her.

"Are you ready?" The taller black magician asked.

"As I will ever be. Are you sure this is proper?" A frown of uncertainty creased her brow. "I have not graduated yet; only fully fledged magicians are allowed into the Night Room."

"You are one of the Guilds two Black Magicians. The King has made it an official role as defender of the Kingdom; as such you wear full length robes." Rothen answered reassuringly. "And whilst you may not have finished your study of all other subjects, I do not think that anyone will question your mastery of Black Magic." The alchemist added grimly.

"You also forget the reason for our visit tonight. You are to become my wife, and that also qualifies you to enter the Night Room." Akkarin paused and added, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth:

"I think whether you should be there, or not, will not be the foremost thought in their minds. Come, let us put the gossips over worked tongues to rest."

* * *

"This is intolerable!" Alya hissed, mostly to herself, as she stood with Garrel near a window of the Night Room.

"Careful." Garrel whispered warningly, a fixed smile on his face as he leaned towards her gold spun head, as if exchanging pleasantries. Alya glowered coldly at the throng that surrounded the two black magicians, the top of Sonea's head only just visible. The excited hum of the room drowned out Alya's barely articulated whispers.

"Can't they see the danger? The two black magicians allied together in such a personal way? Or, in her case, in such a scheming, self-interested way. As for him, his guilt binds him; why else would he..." Alya broke off suddenly, her face red and contorted with fury - and with another emotion. Garrel glanced at her and placed it: jealousy. Not for the first time, he thought of the talk that had linked Akkarin and Alya when they were novices. He moved to stand in front of her.

"Alya!" He hissed . "Control yourself! I hope you have strong barriers keeping your thoughts in check! By the look on your face a simpleton non-magician could read them!" He grated.

Lady Alya forced herself to look at her fellow warrior and, breathing deeply, schooled a composed expression back on to her elegant featured face.

"Better." Garrel growled through his teeth, turning his pleasantly smiling face to the room again. "They are to be married soon." He sad through barely moving lips." I think we should act beforehand; the king may be reluctant to make a widower of Akkarin." Garrel knew he did not have to look at Alya to gauge her acquiescence in this proposal.

"The child plays in the gardens each day after the midday meal. The Players are in the City next week. I can use that." Alya murmured .

"Good. I have my man in the Slums ready to act; they will do anything for money. " Garrel spat in disgust. " Enough now; we will talk to finalise details." Garrel leaned away from Alya and laughed suddenly, as if at some joke, and reached for a glass of Anuren Dark from a passing servant's tray.

* * *

Akkarin still held Sonea's hand. He had taken it in his as the door to the Night Room had swung open to reveal them on its threshold. The hum of voices inside had abruptly quietened, all heads turned to look at the two Black Magicians.

_-Sonea? Are you okay? _Akkarin had thought at her, as he felt her fingers tremble at his touch.

_-A glass of wine might help. _She responded, smiling weakly.

As the room continued to stare at them, agonizingly frozen in its impolite, but very human, repose, Rothen came to the rescue of all by propelling Sonea and Akkarin into the room with a gentle hand at their backs.

"My lords and ladies!" The alchemist barely had to raise his voice to be heard in every corner of the silent room.

"I am sure you will forgive me for sharing some good news in these uncertain times." Rothen couldn't help but smile at the wide eyed faces that stared back at him. Only Balkan and Osen looked unsurprised and passively ahead of them. The former high lord had approached them several days ago to first gauge their opinion of the union, and to hopefully gain their blessing. Both had seemed unperturbed by the two Black Magicians marrying, though Akkarin thought he detected a rather forced expression of goodwill on Osen's face.

Rothen took a breath, pausing, revelling in the palpable expectant tension that filled the chamber. He looked at Akkarin and saw from the mischievous glint to his eye and the curl of his lip, that ,he too, was amused at the magicians before him who resembled children at the window of a confectionary shop. The older magician then glanced sideways at Sonea and saw her pink cheeks and fixed gaze, and knew that this was excruciating for her. He briskly cleared his throat, his face becoming solemn and he spoke the formal words:

"Lord Akkarin of House Paren, Family Delvon, has asked for the hand in marriage of Lady Sonea, and she grants it willingly. They will be married in the Guildhall with the blessing of the High Lord and the King, on the Sixth- day, third week of this month."

The stunned silence lasted a further split second before a babble of congratulations erupted, most, but not all of them heartfelt. Magicians, led by Lady Vinara, surged forward, and Sonea and Akkarin were barely able to draw breath for the next thirty minutes.

"Oh Sonea, I am so happy for you. You are happy, aren't you?" Lady Tya managed to speak to her friend when there was a lull in the demands for her attention, the healer, Lord Darlen, having just bowed and walked away. Akkarin was turned away from Sonea, in conversation with another magician, but his fingers still loosely laced Sonea's.

"Oh Tya, of course I am. I couldn't be happier to be marrying Akkarin; I'm just amazed he feels the same." Sonea answered, glancing at the tall figure behind her.

"Sonea, you sell yourself short. I mean...I didn't mean you were ...oh dear! You know what I meant!" Tya floundered, swatting at the arm of her friend who was silently laughing, her dark eyes sparkling.

"Tya." The Black Magician managed to say between giggles. "I have long come to terms with my lack of height. Don't trouble yourself. Tya? What's wrong?" Sonea's smile faded as the librarian's eyes blinked widely as if fighting back tears.

"Sonea," she said, clasping the younger woman's free hand with both of hers. "You do not know how good it is to see you laugh. We were so worried about you. I truly wish you both every happiness."

As Tya released Sonea's one hand, Akkarin's grip tightened on her other. She turned questioningly towards him and saw him scanning the room, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenching. Sonea detected an aura of tension about him that anyone apart from her would have been oblivious to.

_-Akkarin, what's wrong?_

A shiver ran down the tall magician's spine as a prescience of menacing thoughts whispered at the edge of his consciousness. Thoughts that were more than the shock and vague disapproval that floated at the forefront of the minds of some of those gathered. Akkarin's brow knitted as he cast his consciousness out in an attempt to catch the portent of danger and isolate the mind at its source.

_It's nothing._ He looked down at her, forcing the tight line of his mouth to curve into a smile.

_-Akkarin..._ Sonea thought at him warningly. She held his dark gaze and he sighed resignedly, squeezing her hand.

_-Someone in the room wishes you ill._

_-Only one? _ She thought, raising an eyebrow.

_-No, I mean __real__ harm. They are blocking their thoughts well, but they are strongly felt and I sense them, I just can't isolate them. Ah! It's gone._

Akkarin looked around again but saw nothing to arouse suspicion; just smiling faces and an atmosphere of hope and joy.

_Yes joy. _Akkarin thought._ Most here are glad to focus on a happy event; a distraction from the sorrow of the past months and the uncertainty of the future._ Rothen caught the Black Magician's eye from across the room.

_-Akkarin! Problem?_

_-Not an immediate one. It's fine._ Akkarin responded, and he raised his glass and smiled.

"I hope, Lord Akkarin, you are planning a marriage celebration worthy of your bride. We all owe her, and you, so much." Lady Tya remarked brightly, oblivious to the momentary interlude of tension.

"It will only be a quiet affair Tya. It wouldn't be appropriate, at the moment I think, to be extravagant." Sonea said turning to Akkarin for agreement.

"Don't worry Lady Tya," Akkarin said, smiling softly at Sonea. "Nothing will be found wanting.

* * *

Regin lay sprawled on his bed in the Novice Quarters. He had read, and re-read, the same sentence in his alchemy book ten times. It was late, well into the night, but sleep eluded him. He sighed exasperatedly and threw the book on the floor, lying back and running his fingers through his hair. His eyes fixed on the dim globe light above his head.

Regin still could not shake the uneasy feeling that had gripped him in the days following the announcement of Akkarin and Soneas' forthcoming marriage. He guessed that this fast approaching alliance would do nothing to endear Sonea to her enemies. They would interpret it as a further manipulation in her supposed attempt to infiltrate the highest echelons of the Guild.

_Fools. _Regin thought_. As one of the Guilds Black Magicians, she has already reached its pinnacle._

Alend had continued to be evasive about exactly who was plotting against Sonea, saying he thought that, as yet, there was no definite plan to act. Whilst Regin ultimately trusted his friend, he had an uneasy feeling that Alend was uncomfortable about some aspect of what he knew, and that it had nothing to do with Sonea.

Sonea... Regin sighed and spun over on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. _Anything,_ he thought, _just don't think of her. _But she filled his thoughts, and Regin knew that it was not just remorse for his treatment of her in the past that led to him obsessing about saving Sonea from any conspirators. At first, he had convinced himself that the surge of unfamiliar feelings for his one-time class mate was pity for what she had suffered, but that misconception had not lasted long. He recalled when realisation about Akkarin's feelings for Sonea had hit, back in the smugglers den under the City. Regin remembered that it had made him consider the slum girl in a way that he had not seriously done before. He had watched her anew during the Ichani attack, noticing how her contrasting dark and pale beauty had matured since she had joined the Guild as a rogue years before.

Regin groaned into his pillow as his stomach somersaulted in a confusion of emotions as he thought of her impending marriage to Akkarin. "How could this happen?" He growled to himself. Then he laughed, a short, harsh sound in the quiet of his room. He thought of the haughty, arrogant smirk he had given Sonea when he had first set eyes on her. If only his younger self could see him now, kept from sleep by thoughts of the slum girl! And not ones of how to bring about her expulsion from the Guild. He flipped back over on his bed and reached down to retrieve his book – this was going to be a long night , he thought.

* * *

Regin was not the only restless soul that night. Sonea woke from sleep to a stillness and coldness next to her in the bed that she was unused to these past three months. Akkarin had held her each night, his arms around her slender body as she had slept, or cried or whispered her innermost thoughts and feelings into the warmth of his chest. And when night-borne horrors assailed her, his presence beside her was enough to hold even her unconscious mind to the real world. He, in his turn, had soothingly murmured tales to her about his childhood and earlier life; a life untroubled by the Ichani or black magic. Sonea blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, pale bands of moonlight painting eerie patterns across the ceiling.

_-Akkarin? _ Sonea sent out a cautious mental call, not wanting to alarm any other magicians who might be awake at this unsociable hour.

_-In the guest room. _Akkarin answered her enquiry.

Sonea slipped out of bed, grabbing something from under her pillow and slipping it into the pocket of a silken night robe she cast around herself, before padding silently down the hall. As she descended the ebony staircase of the new residence, a feeling of belonging and security assailed her, as it often had this last week. This was the first place Sonea had lived in that was truly hers – her home. Her years spent living in cramped and dirty rooms seemed like a lifetime ago. Even in the comfort of Rothen's rooms and the Novice Quarters she had always felt as though she was an intruder. But this was her home; hers and Akkarin's – and she felt a thrill run down her spine at that thought. The thrill unexpectedly lingered as Akkarin looked up and smiled in greeting as she approached him. He sat, wine glass in hand, on a long couch covered in rich fabric which was arranged in front of a stone fireplace. The dying embers in its hearth the only light in the room, the soft amber glow creeping into the dark corners, causing the shadows to dance and leap to the tune of the flames. Akkarin stretched out a hand to Sonea as she neared him and she took the long fingers in hers as she sank down next to him.

"Sorry." He smiled his crooked smile at her. "Did I wake you?"

"_You_ didn't, but the coldness of our bed did." Sonea brought his fingers to her mouth, feeling the smooth skin under her lips. "You drink too much." She murmured, glancing sideways at the tall dark haired man who was turned to regard her, his face in shadow against the fire beyond.

"I know. It numbs the pain." Akkarin's voice was tight, the glitter of his jet eyes just discernible in the dim light. Sonea knew that her fellow black magician suffered Kariko's attack on her more keenly than she now did. In her studies and her work Sonea had begun to remember who she was, and, more importantly, she realised that other people had never forgotten; had never regarded her as merely a victim. Yet the knife that tore into Akkarin's heart was double edged; he felt the bite of pain at what Sonea had endured, but also the sharpness of the guilt at failing to protect her. The second cut ensuring that the first one remained open. Moreover, it was a feelng he had experienced before, long ago, in the Sachakan Desert, where he had first learnt to love. Those events had closed the door to his heart - until Sonea.

"Akkarin." Sonea began, reaching with her free hand to trace along his jaw with her fingers. "When Kariko tortured and rap-..."

"No! Sonea; please don't... " his voice was filled with anguish and he turned his head away. Sonea took a breath and, placing her small palm on his cheek, gently turned his head so that he met her intent gaze again. For once, it seemed it was he that struggled to maintain eye contact, but her gaze was implacable and she continued.

"I said once that when Kariko tortured and...- violated me I would have sought death if I could." She paused, considering. "That was not true. One thing gave me the strength to not seek oblivion and stay there – and that one thing was you. I felt for the first time the depth of your love through my blood ring and, deep inside , I knew that it was a love worth living for." Sonea eyes welled as she spoke, but they did not waver.

"It was not your fault that I fell into Kariko's hands." Sonea's spoke softly, yet with conviction. "Lorlen needed you; you needed to see Lorlen – to make your peace. You could not possibly have known Kariko's movements. But you _did_ help me find myself again . I could not have done it - could not continue to do it – without you. You must believe me Akkarin, or this guilt will always be between us, will stop us moving on together, and Kariko will have got the vengeance he was seeking." Her voice was thick with emotion.

Akkarin's long fingers entwined hers tightly and a breath caught in his throat. "But the child..." he whispered hoarsely.

"...Was a precious life that we made, and we will never forget. But I want the chance to look into the eyes of our other children, and not have guilt stand between us and their love. I don't blame you Akkarin – you have to let it go." She looked at him imploringly.

Akkarin smiled sadly as a tear traced a silent path down his cheek. "I am supposed to be the strong one, helping you through this."

"And you have been; but you have years of hurt to heal. We can be strong for each other - can't we?" It was her turn to smile. " Don't worry; I won't tell anyone that you are not always the intimidating, aloof, dangerous magician you like them to think you are."

Akkarin suddenly laughed, then the smile faded. "I love you – always." His voice was low. He leaned forwards and kissed her, first her brow, then her cheek, then, when she did not recoil from the charged intimacy, he kissed her lips. When he withdrew his black eyes bore searchingly into hers, only inches away.

"And I love you." Sonea breathed. The soft glow from the fire burnished her hair and Akkarin pushed some wayward strands behind her ear, his cool fingers caressing the contours of her face. She felt so small, so vulnerable; looks, he had learnt, could be deceiving.

"Things other than wine can numb pain." She said softly, her warm breath on his face. Her eyes danced with the flames reflected in them, the pupils dilated. He leaned towards her and kissed her again, moved by the aching familiarity of her mouth beneath his lips. His kiss became urgent and she responded with a long dormant need. Abruptly, he stopped and leaned back, though his fingers lingered on her cheek.

"Sonea – ..."

Suddenly Akkarin's mind was racked with emotions; fear – yes – but also love, desire, longing, and an image, of his own face, silhouetted by the crimson light of a fire behind. Realisation hit and he quickly looked down to where Sonea's hands lay in her lap and he saw the glint of his blood ring where she had slipped it out of her gown pocket and on to her finger.

"_Now_ you can be sure." She stated levelly. The desperate need, finally released within her, was real, and he felt it wash over him as sure as he felt his own longing. Holding her eyes with his, Akkarin pulled out a chain from around his neck and unclasped a red gemmed ring that hung there. He slipped Sonea's blood ring onto his finger and her mind reeled from the tidal wave of feelings that swamped her.

"And so can you." Akkarin whispered, curling his hand around her neck and bringing her mouth to his once more, his body responding to the warmth of her. Sonea slid her arms around him, her fingertips tracing down his spine and clawing at the hair at his neck as she returned his kiss fiercely. Encumbering silk of garments were pushed aside as Sonea reclined against the gentle, but irresistible, pressure of Akkarin's body, his long fingers exploring her ivory skin . Their blood rings awakening feelings that the two Black Magicians couldn't, and didn't wish to stem, driven by an understanding and desire that they had never known before. The intertwining and union of their minds and spirits as real as that of their bodies, as they became enveloped in each others' senses; their exhilarated pleasure utter and complete. They did not notice when the half full wine glass Akkarin had set down on the edge of a low table, was knocked and fell to the stone floor, smashing into many pieces – it was not needed anymore.

* * *

** A/N - Very tricky one to write. Very nervous about posting it! If we're honest ladies, I'm sure we all wanted abit more of this in the books! Trudi skimmed over it very glibly in THL, and I,for one , wanted more! I hope this satisfies some of you Sonea/Akkarin fans; if not - well, I enjoyed writing it! As always, thanks for reading - if you could take a minute more to review and give me some feed back you'll make my day!**


	6. Chapter 5 Trap

**Chapter Five – Trap**

The people who looked up and noticed the small black clad figure walking past inclined their heads respectfully, and some children still smiled and waved, but most were now used to the sight of one or the other of the Black Magicians as they made their way to the Healing Centre in the Outer Circle. Sonea breathed in the warm air and glanced up at the birds high above as they glided in the hazy blue sky, newly arrived from the warmer climes of the South to mate and nest in Imardin.

The Black Magician recalled how, as a girl, she used to bask in the pleasant warmth of these months, after the harsh coldness and hunger of winter, and before the weeks of intense heat that descended on Imardin every year, heightening the squalor and odour of Slum life. Sonea clung to those memories in her new found life of comfort and privilege, determined to use her position to lessen the hardships for others that she had endured. She had thrived in the weeks since the Healing Centre had opened to undiminishing lines of people seeking the Healers services. When she was not on duty, she studied tirelessly, determined to be the best Healer that she could. Akkarin, whilst taking some shifts at the Centre, used his undeniable enigmatic and intimidating charms to persuade some of the richest and most powerful people of the city, that funding and supporting the new Centre was in their best interests.

"So, your skills in Healing are progressing well, I hear." The perfunctory voice of the slightly stocky, red robed, figure of her escort, broke Sonea's reverie, and she turned to him and smiled.

"Yes, thankyou Lord Garrel. Vinara seems very pleased, and I am able to treat many of the most common ailments that present to us at the Centre. "

Sonea was slightly surprised when Lord Garrel met her at the university steps to act as her escort today. Except for Vinara, and sometimes Rothen, her escorts usually came from the lower ranks of the Guilds Warriors. As he strode purposefully beside her, Garrel had explained that a stomach sickness had laid low the Warrior that was scheduled to escort her, so he, being free, had offered to take his place.

"Ah, here we are." Garrel said looking ahead at the stone building that loomed in front of them, rising smooth and pale grey from amidst its shabby neighbours. A green clad woman hovered expectantly at the arched wooden door as they approached.

"Oh Lady Sonea; thank goodness! Oh- Lord Garrel. " The young woman bobbed her head in surprise as she recognised Sonea's escort. "Welcome. You have picked a very busy day to visit us Lord; there are a great number of people visiting the city to see the Players." The Healer turned to Sonea. "Thankfully, we have had a couple more civilian volunteers to help with the organising of the queues."

"Good, good." Sonea said soothingly. "Lord Darlen is due shortly; he is always a fast worker." The Black Magician bustled the Healer back through the doors, examining papers that were handed to her as she went. Lord Garrel followed behind, entering a bright and airy room where a line of people waited to give their details to a Healer behind a desk at the front.

As he passed by the line, Lord Garrel caught the eye of one of the helpers who skulked near the back of the room, supporting a dirty and unkempt man. Garrel's hand at his side turned palm outwards and a flash of a gold coin was briefly seen. The helper inclined his head slightly in understanding.

"Lady!" He exclaimed, looking at the Healer at the desk. "Lady! I have one here that's half dead, I reckon..."

"Or soon will be..." Garrel muttered under his breath.

* * *

"Oh Lady, this is so good of you! Kerrel dear, you be a good boy for Lady Alya – and bring your sister back one of those berry pies that she loves." Jonna fussed her son, smoothing his hair and pressing a small drawstring pouch into his small hand. He looked down, wide-eyed and open mouthed, then beamed a wide grin. Jonna smiled kindly at her son.

"You be sure and tie it tightly to your belt now – you will not be getting any more." Sonea's aunt brushed at Kerrel's cloak and he pulled away impatiently.

"Ma ! Leave me alone!"

Alya laughed and came to stand next Kerrel, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"You do not mind if I pay a visit to my parents on the way back? I seldom visit them, and if they hear that I have visited the City but not them, my mother would not forgive me. I will have Kerrel back by dusk." The warrior spoke in reassuring tones and smiled softly down at the boy.

"Of course I do not mind Lady. We are just so grateful to you for giving Kerrel this opportunity. My husband and I would have to save a six-month to even afford the entrance fee..."

"Oh, it is nothing," Alya said waving her hand. " An excuse to see them myself; I have not had the pleasure for years. Now, I think that Kerrel is eager to go." The little boy had tightly grasped her hand and was turning in the direction of the gates.

"Who do you think you will like best Kerrel? The Flame Thrower or the Juggler? Or maybe the Acrobats? " The magician bent her golden head down to Kerrel's and she whispered in his ear, smiling at Jonna as she did so. "Or, maybe you will like the sweet-cake stall with iced pastries bigger than you've ever seen."

Kerrel's eyes became as large as plates and both women laughed, Alya clasping his hand firmly as she turned and led the boy towards the gates.

* * *

Lord Garrel had followed Sonea into a treatment room. It was a neat rectangular room, light and airy like the rest of the Centre. It was simply furnished with a plain wooden desk and chair; two other chairs were arranged facing the desk and a long low couch was positioned in a corner of the room. The Black Magician sat down on the desk chair and placed the papers in her hand on top of a pile already stacked. She sighed, leaning back in the chair and looking exasperatedly at the documents in front of her.

"And Akkarin wishes us to take a seven-day off next week after our marriage." Sonea said with a sceptical grimace. She glanced up when Garrel made no response. The red-robed warrior was inhaling deeply and gripping the back of a chair, his knuckles white.

"Lord Garrel? Are you well? You have gone very pale." Sonea asked, frowning.

"I, I think I may be sickening with the same thing as Lord Talek." Garrel groaned and clutched at his stomach as if a spasm had set his stomach lurching.

"Here, " Sonea said rising from her seat. "Sit down. Let me take a look at you."

"No! Just point me in the direction of the bathrooms..." He groaned again, both hands gripping the robes at his stomach.

"Of course. Third door on your left as you go out. Come back here and I will look at you ..." She called after Garrel as he hurried towards the door. As he opened it, the helper whose eye he had caught in the waiting room stood there, one hand raised ready to knock, the other arm supporting the unkempt man who seemed barely conscious or able to stand. Garrel looked at him sharply for a moment before hurrying past, holding his middle and heading for the door that Sonea had indicated. The two men stumbled through the door.

"Oh!" Sonea exclaimed. "Let me help you. Bring him over here." She said, gesturing to the couch, as she quickly took the sick mans other arm. They lowered the man down on to the couch where he lay, his eyes fluttering and his mouth making inarticulate mumblings. As the helper straightened Sonea studied him appraisingly.

" You are new. I have not seen you here before. We are so grateful to the volunteers. It means we can get on with our work, instead of having to shepherd people."

"No trouble Lady. Pleased to help. I may need your services one day."

As he spoke, the man looked uneasily at the small black clad woman who had bent to look more closely at the man on the couch. The helper backed away towards the door, wringing his hands together as if some inner turmoil caused him anguish. As he reached the door and grabbed the handle, Sonea glanced up from her ministrations.

"Do not go!" Sonea exclaimed. "I should not be here alone with this man. By rights, I should have a magician here, but my escort has been taken ill."

"Oh, well then; I'll go and inform the Healer and she will get someone sent in."

"Oh but, I really should not be left..."

The door clicked shut behind the man.

"...alone." Sonea said to the closed door. She turned back to the man and sighed.

"Well, I may as well see what is ailing you – besides too much bol." She added, grimacing at the man's pungent breath that he exhaled noisily in loud snores.

As she was about to place her cool palms on the man's temples, a faint click at the door made her look up sharply. When the door made no movement, Sonea shook her head, perplexed, but she turned her attention back her patient. As she did so, the Black Magician gave a start, for behind the couch, and in front of a door which led to a small ante-chamber for Sonea's private use, stood a cloaked figure, only a glint of fair hair could be seen from beneath the shadow of the hood.

"Should you be doing that?" A sickly sweet voice purred as an elegant hand gestured to Sonea's own that were hovering above the man's temples. "Maybe I could act as escort; or... maybe not."

The hand went to the hood and drew it back to reveal a serenely beautiful face with golden hair braided and tied neatly at the nape of the woman's neck. Hard gray eyes glittered at Sonea and were the only thing that belied the woman's true emotions. Sonea stood frozen in her crouched position, a cold feeling of dread crawling in the pit of her stomach. Whatever this woman wanted, it was not to oversee her skills at diagnosing a drunken man in need of hydration – of that she was sure.

As Sonea straightened, and before she could even blink, the cloaked woman lent forwards across the couch, and placed her palms on Sonea's temples. The Black Magician recoiled, but the hands increased their pressure and images flashed into Sonea's mind; another person's memories, as clear as if they were her own.

Her aunt's shyly grateful face as she thanked the woman for taking Kerrel to see the Players, then Kerrel himself in an expensively furnished room, playing with toys that a boy born in the Slums could only dream of. A cloaked figure entered the room carrying a tray piled high with confectionaries and Kerrel's jaw dropped and his mouth opened in unadulterated mouth-watering anticipation. Suddenly, the images in Sonea's mind stopped as the woman's hands dropped. She reeled backwards and instinctively raised a shield close to her skin as the golden headed woman continued to lean across the prostrate man. She spoke in a voice soft with menace.

"As we speak, your cousin is being looked after by some of my... ah... shall we say, friends? Do as I say; do not cry out; do not call out with your mind, I will hear it; do not attack me – and the boy will come to no harm." The woman's voice became clipped with adrenalin and her lip curled in a grotesque smile. "Do not comply, and I will send word to my friends in a heartbeat, and your aunt and uncle will never recover from the death of their son." The woman straightened her stance and glanced down at the man on the couch below, her expression now one of undisguised revulsion.

"This man is a drunk that an acquaintance of ours came across for us. He also happens to have a strong latent power." She drew something out from beneath her cloak and held it on her upturned palm.

"Take this knife and end his life with your filthy magic, and the boy will endure nothing more than the excitement of going to the Players as promised."

Sonea recognised the knife as the kind commonly used in this area of the city; she also noticed the glint of a newly sharpened blade. The dark haired magician's mouth went dry as she tried to take in the sudden turn of events. The feeling of cold trepidation crystallized into dreadful understanding as the two magicians' gazes locked. Sonea had no reason to doubt that what this woman had said to her was not true. Furthermore, she recalled Jonna mentioning a kindly magician named Lady Alya who had taken Kerrel to her heart, and that she was taking him to see the Players.

Unknown to Sonea was the fact that, if she had mentioned Alya's name to Akkarin, she may not be in the precarious predicament she now found herself in. That Kerrel was, at that moment, eating sweets in a mansion house of the Inner Circle, Sonea did not doubt; just how she was going to get out of this situation and preserve Kerrel's life, she was not quite so sure of. One thing was for certain – she was not going to endanger the life of her cousin.

_Akkarin. The blood ring._ She thought. _Alya cannot hear communication through the ring._ But as she reached slowly for her inner pocket where she always kept the gem near, Sonea realised that it would take Akkarin twenty minutes at least to reach her at the Healing Centre.

_Too long. I cannot buy that much time, and she may send word to kill Kerrel as soon as she sees Akkarin. _Sonea's hand stopped in its tracks. She licked her dry lips.

"But Garrel, my escort, will be back any moment." The younger magician said with as much conviction as she could muster. Alya's cruel smile widened.

"Yes – a second after I have left the room, and just in time to witness you using black magic to kill." Alya's face transformed into one of mock empathy and she batted her eyelids innocently.

"Oh, the temptation was just too great, you see. You could not help yourself. Make the cut in a discreet place, like his foot, you thought , and no-one will know - or care. You could certify, as the Healer on duty, that he died of natural causes. So quick, so easy... except that Garrel will return sooner than you anticipated." The warrior's expression turned to stone again and she stared at the Black Magician with pure hatred.

Sonea's mind reeled as she realised that she had vastly underestimated the strength of malice still felt towards her. A familiar buzzing sound hummed in her ears as she felt her pulse race and her vision blur. The ice in her stomach had frozen the Black Magician rigid; rooted to the spot where she stood facing Alya. Sonea forced herself to focus on the woman's moving lips and she resolutely banished the image of another cruel, mocking face that tried to take hold and strangle her consciousness. But Kariko was dead to Sonea now; he held no power over her, but as she looked at the beautiful face in front of her, Sonea knew she still had very real demons to deal with.

"Oh, of course, Garrel will be mortified at the innocent life lost," Alya continued. "But he will plead that he trusted you; never thought you would...just left the room for a short time...felt so ill. What a tragedy for the Guild and the King to find their trust was misplaced. How sad for Akkarin when he realises you only used him to gain forbidden knowledge. Do not think you can show him the truth from your mind – they will never let you get close enough to him, and who would believe your lover anyway? How he will grieve when they execute you. He will get over it, of course – with a little help" Alya flashed a humourless smile, the guile in her eyes unmistakeable; her intentions clear.

"How unfortunate that you cannot volunteer for a truth read to prove your innocence."

Sonea swallowed hard and tried to find her voice.

"They will perform a truth read on you when I tell them about Kerrel. They will understand that I could not sacrifice my cousin."

"Foolish girl." Alya sneered. "A truth read on Garrel will be all that is needed to ascertain what happened in this room, and what you are about to do to this poor man. I am a trusted cousin of the King; they will not truth read me on a whim of yours."

"But..." Sonea stammered, trying to consider the truth of what Alya was saying.

"You do not understand do you? No-one has seen me here today; a simple cloak and a little magical subterfuge were all that was needed. Your aunt will confirm that you knew of Kerrel's visit to the city with me today. It will not be too hard to believe that you seized on it and tried to fabricate a reason for your despicable actions."

"But you and Garrel. " Sonea's whispered. "They will see you in his memories."

"Garrel has not seen me here today, or in the last few days at the Guild. They will not insult his position by probing any deeper into his memories than is necessary to prove your guilt."

"That is a gamble."

"Maybe." Alya shrugged indifferently. "But I think we have judged it correctly. Anyway, it is a worthy risk. Even if we are found out, you will still have used black magic to kill. You will still have to be punished."

Sonea regarded Alya intently, a confused frown knitting her brow.

"You hate me that much? You would let an innocent man and child be killed?" Sonea spoke softly, shaking her head in disbelief. Alya's eyes glittered and when she spoke, her voice was like splintered glass.

"Hate you? My child, you have no idea."

"Why?" Sonea breathed, the question hanging in the tense air between them. Alya gave a soft snort.

"You are everything _I_ should be. You have everything _I_ should have – and , by rights, you should have _nothing_." The warrior spat the last word out with venom and her face became contorted.

"Now," she said softly with cruel malice. "Garrel will be waiting for my signal." She held out the knife to Sonea across the drunken man who lay oblivious to his imminent demise.

"Take it, or I _will_ send word, and the child will meet with a tragic accident. How easy it is to choke on a dainty in childish eagerness."

Sonea noticed that Alya's long fingers trembled slightly as she held out the knife, but, inhaling a long breath, the Black Magician reached forwards to grasp the blade.

A small, cold, satisfied smile played about Alya's lovely face – a smile that implied both contempt and utter confidence in her triumph.

**A/N - Hope you enjoy! As ever, please review.**


	7. Chapter 6 Never forget

**Hey! Got this done quicker than I thought. Sorry the text is abit bunched; I couldn't seem to save my double spacing.**

**Chapter 6. – Never forget where you came from..**

"Hey, Regin!"

Regin turned suddenly, startled out of his thoughts by his friend's call; thoughts that invariably led to one person. He managed a weak smile at Alend who now came to walk besides him.

"You are eager to get to Warrior class this morning. Really, I would think that you could show our teachers a thing or two by now."

Regin glanced sideways at his fellow novice, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't exaggerate Alend. I have not graduated yet; and anyway, I was thinking of choosing the purple robes."

Alend's eyes widened in surprise but he gave a short laugh as he saw the sarcasm written on his friends face.

"Seriously though," Alend continued, "you must be the most talented novice at Warrior skills since, since... Akkarin."

"Mmm. You forget I was defeated in a formal battle by a certain female magician whom I would still not go into the Arena with."

The mirth on Regin's face vanished and was replaced with a grim expression that Alend could not read.

"Talking of Sonea, she seems much more her old self these days. I sat with her in the library the other day. She even laughed! When I look at her I still find it hard to believe that she is a Black Magician."

Regin's expression darkened.

"Well, she is, and most others do not forget it. I have seen magicians actually walk the other way when they see her approaching. Not because they do not like her, or even because they disapprove, but more because they do not know how to treat her. With respect might be a good start."

Regin scowled, and Alend looked at his friend thoughtfully.

"Regin, forgive me if I speak out of turn." Alend began cautiously, still regarding his fellow novice, assessing his reaction to what he was about to say.

"Do you..., I mean, you are very defensive of Sonea, and, whilst I feel that way too, you seem almost protective, as if there is more to your feelings than just gratitude and respect."

Regin stared resolutely at the Arena that loomed in front of them, his expression guarded.

"You forget how I treated her that first year. I feel... ashamed, that's all."

"It's not more than that? " Alend persisted. "You would not be the only male to be attracted to Sonea. She has a kind of, ahhh," Alend struggled for the right word, "rough, untamed beauty,that makes her stand out from the preened girls of the Houses."

He looked directly at Regin who had flushed slightly. Regin inclined his head slightly towards his friend, though he still stared fixedly in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Bina and Issle hurried to join them from across the gardens where they had been enjoying the warm sunshine. A look of relief washed over Regin's face, and one of consternation over Alend's.

Issle seemed oblivious as she smiled her greeting, but Bina's eyes narrowed at the two young men as her scrutiny flickered from one to the other.

"Not interrupting anything are we?" She asked, her glare coming to rest on Regin.

"No, of course not. Why?" He answered a little too hastily.

"It just seemed a little tense between you two, that's all."

Alend interjected, giving Bina a very direct look.

"We were just discussing_ Sonea_," he said.

Bina raised her eyebrows slightly, understanding creeping upon her as she saw the colour rise in Regin's cheeks again.

"Oh!" She said simply.

Issle, still completely immune to the idea that someone of their background could find any girl from the Slums desirable, snorted softly.

"What about Sonea? Were you talking about her impending marriage, or the _supposed _plot to vilify her." She glanced at Alend, a sceptical smile on her lips.

"Neither, actually," Alend began, but he was distracted by the emergence of a red robed figure from the portal of the Arena. The Warrior gestured for the novices to join him. Alend frowned.

"That's Lord Horitu isn't it?" Bina asked. "I thought Lord Garrel was taking our class today."

"He was." Regin said in a low voice. They approached the Warrior as he hurried towards them.

"I sent a message to Lord Ahrind; I was hoping to catch the whole class before you left your Quarters. You must be very eager. Anyway, your lesson today has been cancelled. You are to use the time to study for your forthcoming exams, before reporting to your next class." He smiled a perfunctory smile, his duty fulfilled, and he turned to walk away.

"Where is Lord Garrel?" Regin asked. The Warrior looked back over his shoulder.

"The Warrior due to act as Escort today was suddenly taken ill. Lord Garrel, wanting to see the new Healing Centre, volunteered his services instead. No need to look so worried, I doubt there is much more you can be taught at this stage anyway." He turned away again, but this time Alend demanded his attention.

"Act as Escort to whom? – Lady Sonea, or Lord Akkarin?" Alend's voice was low and full of tension.

The Warrior sighed exasperatedly . " Lady Sonea. May I go now?"

"One more thing; is Lady Alya teaching today?"

"No, she is in the City, taking some child to see the Players. I wish I had time for such pleasantries!" With that the man stalked off before he could be delayed again.

"Alend? What's wrong?" Issle asked, frowning at the novice who stood staring after the Warrior, his face drained of all colour.

"Alend? What is it? Tell us!" Regin demanded urgently, taking the other boy's arm and shaking it.

"The magician who is plotting against Sonea," he said, slowly blinking, "is my sister's friend, Lady Alya."

"And? What has that got to do with Lord Garrel missing our lesson today?" Issle asked impatiently. Alend swallowed before continuing.

"Alya implied that she had an accomplice; that they were waiting for an opportunity to arise to be rid of Sonea."

Alend turned to Regin and held his gaze steadily.

"I think... her accomplice is your uncle, Lord Garrel."

"What?" Now Regin's face also became devoid of colour and he felt his throat constrict.

"He is acting as Escort to Sonea!" Regin exclaimed, the feeling of dread that had sprung to life suddenly gripped him like a vice, squeezing all rational thoughts from his head.

"Yes," Bina breathed, "and Alya is also in the City – a coincidence?" She asked, glancing at Alend.

"No; no coincidence," he stated bleakly. "I am not sure what they planned, but I think we can assume that they have found the moment they were waiting for."

Issle, all scepticism gone now, reached and squeezed Regin's hand, as he stood rooted to the spot and unmoving.

"I am sorry about your uncle Regin, I can understand your hesitation, but we need to alert someone. We need to tell Balkan or Akkarin."

Regin turned mechanically to Issle, his expression one of quizzical disbelief.

"You think I give a damn about my uncle if what Alend has said is true?" He shook his head to clear it, and turned to stare at the University, his eyes shining.

"There is only one person that concerns me right now, and we must act before any harm comes to her. Come," Regin abruptly sprang to life. "We must find Akkarin and Balkan; we cannot risk mind communication."

The group turned to hurry towards the University, but as they did a familiar voice thundered through their heads, halting them in their footsteps.

_-Lord Balkan! Come quickly! To the new Healing Centre. It is as I feared- Sonea has turned rogue!_

* * *

Sonea licked her dry lips, her tongue feeling like an obstruction to the air she tried to suck into her lungs. A myriad of thoughts hurtled through her mind as she reached for the blade lying on Alya's quivering palm. She thought of her aunt and uncles' faces, alight with love for their children; of her new found joy with Akkarin; of the trusting faces of Vinara and her other friends. Endless processions of events flicked past her inner vision in the space of a heartbeat, but as she curled her fingers around the cold, hard hilt of the knife, and Alya's grotesque smile widened, it was memories before magic, before the Guild, that floated above all others to the surface of her mind.

A clear memory of the indignation and frustration she felt at the magicians who advanced with superiority on the Slum dwellers as Sonea witnessed the Purge four years ago. The knife hilt in her hand became the smooth stone Sonea had grasped that day; Alya's blonde head blurring into that of Fergun's. Sonea stared at the face, smug, confident and disdainful, and she felt a rage build within her. In the next blink her gaze switched back to the hand on which the knife still lay – the trembling fingers; fingers that maybe betrayed an uncertainty that the face they belonged to did not.

Sonea blinked again. Alya was not shielding, so confident was she that Sonea would not attack her. But Alya did not know that there was no-one in Harrin's gang that could ever fool Sonea in a game of bluff or dare. As the Black Magician's grip tightened on the knife, her decision was made. With instincts long dormant, but never forgotten, Sonea loosed the knife and swiftly curled her fingers around Alya's wrist in a vice grip, fingertips pushing in between tendons, locating the excruciating pressure points. The knife clattered to the stone floor.

Alya gasped in pain and surprise, but before she could make another sound, Sonea yanked her forwards with adrenalin fuelled strength and clamped her hand on the Warrior's forehead. With the skills taught to her by Akkarin, Sonea slipped into the other woman's mind before Alya even noticed the foreign intrusion, her barriers still intact. The Black Magician quickly sifted through Alya's recent memories, panic rising as she felt the other woman struggle against her. Sonea's mind was dimly aware of its physical self, of the other woman's fingernails clawing at the skin and flesh of her hand as it retained its tight grip on Alya's wrist.

_If I am wrong about this, Kerrel will be killed, _she thought.

Then, suddenly, she had it; a memory of Kerrel being taken into a grand house, beautifully constructed and lavishly furnished, but also most definitely unoccupied, its inhabitants elsewhere. Only a cloaked servant came hurrying and bobbing a courtesy as Alya's voice barked instructions for Kerrel to be taken to the nursery and that no-one was to be admitted to the room except herself. The scared looking servant took Kerrel's hand, trying to smile reassuringly as her mistress followed her up the stairs. Once in the nursery, the servant was ordered to raise her hood and fetch a tray of confectionaries, and for the second time in less than ten minutes, Sonea witnessed the servant bring a tray of sweets to her wide eyed cousin – only this time, Sonea was certain that the bearer of the tray was no co-conspirator, and was not willing to kill the boy at Alya's command.

The Black magician's mind relaxed in relief, withdrawing, but as it did so, its physical self followed suit and Alya managed to free herself from Sonea's grip. Immediately, the two women, now unconstrained by their previous physical connection, threw up strong shields. Sonea became aware of the blood dripping from the back of her hand and, shaking with shock and adrenalin, she pushed herself back from the couch on which she had been half kneeling. The drunken man's head rolled from side to side, his lips moving as he began to regain consciousness from his drunken stupor.

Sonea looked up into Alya's face and saw that her eyes were stone cold; a strange mixture of hatred, jealousy and fear seemed to lurk behind the iciness and it sent a chill down the Black Magician's spine. The Warrior continued to regard her adversary, then, without any warning or physical betrayal, Alya sent out a wave of silent and invisible strikes. They were so powerful and focused that Sonea was pushed backwards, her shield, whilst unbroken, crashed into her desk, the jolt propelling the younger magician to the hard floor, painfully jarring her knees.

Sonea's head reeled as she tried desperately to form an attack pattern in her mind. However, before she could react, she felt heat crescendo from the floor beneath her, penetrating her shield in pin-points, like sun through a loosely woven cloth. The combined heat-strikes that Alya was controlling were formidable, and the shafts of heat that broke through seared the black silk of Sonea's robes, scorching her skin. Sonea quickly reinforced the shield below her feet and the heat stopped abruptly. The Black Magician glanced up, her breathing rapid with pain. She knew she dare not use any power to heal herself; she would need all her reserves if she had any chance of overcoming this powerful and skilled magician. Alya's lips quirked.

"Yes; there are not many who realise just how skilled I have become. Some things are best kept close to your chest – don't you think?"

Alya sneered and, as lithe as a cat, she stooped for the discarded knife that was within the globe of her shield, and in one fluid movement, she leaned over the couch and sliced the rousing man's throat. A spray of blood spattered her perfect features and she wiped at it in disgust. The man twitched as his life blood soaked into the silken fabric of the couch, adding its own deadly pattern to the material.

"Oh dear, it seems you decided to dispense with subterfuge, and go on a murderous rampage instead." Alya's features were distorted with cruel sarcasm.

Sonea crouched on the floor, frozen. Her eyes were wide with horror, fixed on the man as he laboured to breath; his final breath rattling and bubbling sickeningly in his mutilated throat until he finally became still.

_-Sonea! Stand up! Prepare for her attack!_

"Akkarin?" Sonea whispered, confused at the voice in her head. Then she winced at a sharp pain in the palm of her hand and looked down to find her fingers balled tightly around something hard, her own fingernails now drawing blood. She opened her hand to reveal Akkarin's blood ring as it lay there where she had unknowingly pulled it from the pocket of her robes. Alya's eyes were also drawn to the gem and her face became contorted with rage. Again she threw forcestrike at Sonea, pushing the Black Magician's shield into shelves of books which toppled sending them crashing to the ground.

__Sonea! Stand! Fight! I am on my way.  
_

At that moment the door to the small room opened and Garrel burst in, his face aghast.

"What...?" He looked around at the carnage of the room; the gaping wound of the dead man, the overturned shelves and strewn books, at Sonea as she crouched in her frozen position, and finally he turned to Alya and their gazes locked. Sonea quickly stood and straightened.

"It seems, Lord Garrel, that Sonea has decided to use her black magic to gain power from innocent Imardins. She has betrayed our trust. Unfortunately it is too late to save this poor man here." Alya gestured to the dead man and Garrel glanced again at the bloody mess, quickly averting his eyes.

"Luckily I was passing by to gain some advice from the Healers about a young charge of mine, when I took a wrong turn and happened upon her before she could take the man's power."

Garrel licked his lips, shifting his weight uneasily from one leg to the other, but he did not speak. Sonea looked in astonishment at her two adversaries, but sensed Garrel's indecisiveness.

"You are undone - why continue with this charade?" Sonea tried to say with confidence. " I have seen Alya's thoughts; I know no-one is with the boy who will harm him." She turned to Garrel.

"Please Garrel. I have never wronged you. Don't do this. You jeopardize the Guild's safety if nothing else – it needs a Black Magician." She took a few steps forward so that the Head of Warriors could see her properly.

"We have Akkarin - slum girl," he added with vitriol. To her surprise and annoyance, Sonea felt her throat constrict and tears prick her eyes. Garrel had known her for years and, whilst never being her advocate, they had spoken many times. His words pierced her as the mask of polite civilisation fell away from his features to reveal the ugly face of naked fear and prejudice. She took another step, stumbling over books.

"Stay where you are." Garrel ordered, but Sonea did not heed him.

"Akkarin is on his way," she whispered. "He knows everything . You cannot get away with this now," she continued, holding up her ring. "It is over; please..." Sonea took another step.

"I told you to stay where you are!" Garrel turned to Alya and nodded once. Sonea braced herself, strengthening her shield.

_-Lord Balkan! Come quickly! To the new Healing Centre. It is as I feared – Sonea has turned rogue!_

Garrel sent out the message and in the next heartbeat, he hurled strikes at Sonea, pounding her shield.

"Do not try to resist us. You have been discovered in your treachery," he hissed for the benefit of those witnessing events through the images Garrel and Alya were projecting. Alya closed in on Sonea, pushing her into a corner and coming to stand so close to her that the two women's shields buzzed off each other.

__Sonea! Fight, damn it! I will not lose you like this after everything we have been through! _

Akkarin sounded so furious with her, reminding her of the guardian he once was, that Sonea almost laughed. Instead she fixed Alya with a determined glare. She sent stunstrike, directing it to hit the Warrior's shield from behind , guessing she had strengthened her defences at the front where the two magician's shields nearly met. Before it hit, however, it violently collided with an unseen defensive strike sent by Alya, the resulting explosion blowing the door of the treatment room off its hinges, revealing a number of shocked patients and Healers beyond.

Alya and Garrel continued their vicious onslaught, confusing Sonea, who had never battled with two such skilled adversaries before. The Ichani, whilst possessing some skill, based their attacks on their ability to wear their enemy down with their greater power . These pair that Sonea now faced were two of the Guilds most skilled and powerful magicians; the combination was lethal, and Sonea knew it with icy clarity. She needed to buy some time; time enough for Akkarin to reach her.

Suddenly, Sonea recalled a memory that had surfaced whilst she was in Alya's mind. It might just work if she concentrated. Sonea made a small fluid gesture with her hands, closing her eyes in an effort to visualise the command as well as keeping her shield in check. The female Warrior suddenly recoiled, her eyes widening in horror as hundreds of snakes slithered all over the globe of her shield. In other circumstances, Sonea would have felt smug at the realism of her illusion, as serpents of all sizes and colours hissed and squirmed, seeming intent on attacking the cowering woman inside the shield. The cold logic of Alya's mind knew that the snakes were not real, yet her heart quickened and the bile rose in her stomach at the sight of the one thing that caused her to know fear.

Sonea acted quickly, knowing that she had caused only a momentary distraction to just one of her assailants. Guessing that Alya may have neglected her shield where there was no visible threat from slithering reptiles, the Black Magician directed her attack through the stone tiles under the other magician's feet. Some of the hits broke through Alya's defences and several snakes fell through the gaps in her shield to lie hissing at the Warriors feet. The woman backed away, white with panic, and tripped, landing in the ruins of the blasted doorway. There were shrieks from some of the onlookers who stood horrified and rooted to the spot.

Abruptly the snakes vanished. "Alya, you fool!" Garrel shouted as he bombarded Sonea with strikes. "Shield and attack! You there!" Garrel gestured towards two Healers who looked on, stunned. "Lady Sonea attacked a patient with black magic. He is dead. Don't just stand there – help us contain her!" He scowled at the slack-jawed and hesitant faces.

"You may only be Healers, but you can remember the basics of attack I'm sure!"

"Sonea?" The female Healer ignored Garrel and looked to Sonea.

"It's not true Vareena. They set me up. I have killed no-one. She did." Sonea turned her glare on Alya who had now regained her icy composure.

"She lies! What else would she say? Help us, or you will answer to the High Lord!" Alya cried, but the pair remained in frozen hesitation.

Sonea was not just their colleague, or even their saviour; she was their friend , and they would not believe she could betray their trust. Alya growled in her throat and scowled at the Healers, knowing no help would be gained in that quarter. She turned her attention back to Sonea who was struggling now with the exertion of maintaining a strong shield, forming an attack and trying to ensure that there were no civilian injuries from rebounding strikes. Her shoulders slumped and sweat beaded her brow. She felt the warmth of the tiles beneath her feet as heat strike spread, prompting the remaining patients to flee, screaming. Sonea felt pain lance up her thighs as she fell, her legs feeling leaden yet incongruously unable to bear her weight. She winced as her knees hit the stone floor again. The Black Magician's power was ebbing, drip feeding her weakening shield.

__Sonea. Hold on! You must hold on! I am minutes away._ Akkarin's fear was unmistakeable.

_He thinks they will kill me. _She thought. The realisation hit her like a cold blast and, as she looked up at the triumphant Warriors, a small cold smile of irony touched her lips. If only she had used black magic, she would not be in the plight she was in now.

"Why are you smiling?" Alya 's voice became a furious shriek. "Why are you smiling at me? - you slum whore! How dare you smile at me!"

Alya's eyes became crazed, her face twisted with rage. She raised her arms, her hands clawing hideously, as she sent out a complex volley of strikes that only one such as herself could harness and control. All her years of practise and learning for this one moment of destroying the woman who had stolen her dreams. The attack hit Sonea's weak shield and it shattered. For a second, the air in the room was heavy with malevolence, as the two women's eyes met. A haze of exhaustion settled on Sonea, wrapping her body and mind in soft smothering blankets, welcoming her to sleep. Somehow, the Black Magician threw off the fog on her senses and, breathing hard, she stood on unsteady legs. She still held Alya's gaze as she straightened and faced her enemy.

"You both know the truth. You are both cowards." Sonea's dark glance went to Garrel's, then back to Alya. "Do what you wi..."

But Sonea did not finish. A blaze of light flared from Alya, propelling the Black Magician into the air, holding her there ,helpless. Other volleys followed from Garrel, and Sonea's body jerked and twisted in midair, like a macabre puppet, as pain raged through her body; wave upon wave, relentless, until even her exhausted body managed to rent a scream from her throat in order to find some release.

Suddenly the onslaught stopped, though Sonea still hung limply in the air, her hair obscuring her clammy face.

"Do you submit? Do you own your crimes?" Garrel asked, his voice as hard as granite. Sonea lifted her head, her visible eye glittered as she looked at Garrel.

"No." She whispered with conviction and no fear. Garrel laughed incredulously and glanced, his eyebrows raised, at the few horrified onlookers who remained, too numb to move.

"You heard her! She will not yield. Such arrogance!" He turned back to Sonea, "then we have no choice," he said in a low voice charged with a primitive hatred, born of fear.

Again Sonea writhed and cried out as pain coiled around her body like a snake, wrapping round her throat, constricting her airway. She gasped for air, her lungs burning as they strained to fill with oxygen. Her head began to spin and a mottled whiteness marred her vision. Sonea managed to look at Alya and saw the cruel smile on her lips as she held the dark woman's gaze, moving slowly and deliberately towards her, like a predator surveying a paralysed and helpless victim. The golden haired Warrior made a pinching gesture with her thumb and finger and Sonea gasped chokingly as the world spun madly about her - images of grotesque faces flickered and wavered, punctuated suddenly by a black swirl of silk. Then Sonea let the suffocating darkness take her; her agonised mental screaming going unvoiced - heard only by one other.

**A/N - Bit of a long one again - sorry! I do try to keep them concise; I actually chopped this chapter and ended it in a different place than intended, and it's still so long! Hope you enjoy! More Akkarin next time; he's had abit of a rest in the last couple of chapters! As ever , thanks for reading and thanks for reviewing; more reviews are always welcome!**


	8. Chapter 7 Revenge

**Chapter Seven – Revenge**

Akkarin skidded through the main door of the Healing Centre, his face a mask of black fury. The two Healers who had remained turned and saw him and their eyes widened in shock and apprehension. Alya and Garrel stood facing him, their expressions hard and steady; given Sonea's words, they had been expecting him. The limp form of Sonea hung between the Warriors and the other Black Magician. Alya stared contemplatively at Akkarin and then made a gesture with her hand causing Sonea to slowly rotate mid air, until she faced Akkarin. The fair headed Warrior gazed at him intently.

"See how your lover has betrayed us? - Betrayed you." Alya struggled to hide the thrill she felt as she spoke the words at last. "She tried to use black magic and now she has killed a man."

The tall Black Magician stood perfectly still, his gaze flickered to Sonea briefly but he betrayed nothing, though a savage light sprung to life in the depths of his eyes. The tension in the room was palpable and Garrel guessed the situation rested on a knife edge. The Head of Warrior's face broke into a cloying smile and he held out a placatory hand to Akkarin.

"Come, Akkarin; you have been through much these past years, no-one will blame you for looking for companionship and solace. Fortunate for you that Sonea has shown her malcontent before your marriage." Garrel paused, but still Akkarin made no move. The Warrior licked his lips and continued.

"She killed a man. She resisted us and now she has paid the ultimate price; she is dead."

Akkarin's hand moved slowly to slip inside the shirt of his black robes. The two Warrior's eyes never left Akkarin's though the faint hum their shields suddenly sprang to life. The Black Magician's hand clasped something at his neck so tightly that his knuckles went white.

"No," he said in a low charged voice, "she is not." With the last word, and without moving a muscle, Akkarin poured his power into a barrage of forcestrikes that hurled towards Alya and Garrel, easily pushing aside the belated retaliatory strikes sent by his adversaries, before hurtling onwards and crashing into their shields, obliterating them utterly. Garrel and Alya staggered backwards, wide-eyed and gasping; though they had used no small amount of their power in the battle with Sonea, and so were weakened, they were still shocked at the magic that Akkarin commanded, defeating them easily. Garrel's face was a sickly hue; Alya's full of unadulterated rage. The faint hum of a shield buzzed around the two.

"Check the man in there is dead." Akkarin ordered the two ashen faced Healers who had stood clinging to the shadows during the exchange. In the next moment Akkarin was on his knees turning Sonea over where she had fallen during the short battle. He smoothed her hair in his habitual gesture of affection as Healing energy flowed from him into her, loosening her constricted throat, knitting the skin on her hands and knees, soothing the lingering spasms of stunstrike that pulsed through her body. A murmur escaped her lips as he gently wiped blood from them where she had bitten down in her pain and torment. Her eyes flickered and her hand reached out; Akkarin grasped it with long fingers.

"Sonea," he breathed, "you are safe now. I said I would not fail you again." His black eyes burned as he scanned her face intently. Her eyelids still fluttered spasmodically; her face pale. He ran his fingers through the dark coils of her hair.

"Sonea...?" Her eyes suddenly opened and relief washed over the tall magicians face. She drew in a deep breath and began coughing violently, her chest heaving in convulsions. Akkarin said nothing but continued to smooth her hair soothingly. At last her lungs were sated and she slowly relaxed into a rhythmic breathing. Sonea's face was momentarily perplexed, then memory crashed through her mind like a wave. She pushed herself up on her elbows and glanced over her shoulder at the two Warriors still held captive by Akkarin's shield. Akkarin followed her gaze and a dark rage overcame his features once more.

"Pay them no heed; they will be dealt with," he grated.

"Akkarin – please, help me stand." Despite the Healing energy Akkarin had given her, Sonea remained exhausted, something only sleep would remedy, but she did not wish to lie prone on the floor before her enemy. Akkarin placed a hand under her elbow and gently raised her to her feet, placing an arm around her waist and holding her closer than was necessary to support her small frame. They turned to face Alya and Garrel directly, Akkarin's ebony eyes fixing on Alya's icy stare.

"Lady Alya; I would like to introduce you to my betrothed, Lady Sonea. I see that you have already met." And he lifted Sonea's fingers to his lips in a small, but significant gesture. Alya returned Akkarin's glare furiously, her perfect skin flushing scarlet with the effort of containing her rage. Lord Garrel, his sickly tone increasing by the minute, backed away from the Black Magicians until his heels met the obstruction of the restraining shield.

A deadly smile tugged at the corner of Akkarin's mouth. "Now, would either of you care to tell me your true reasons for attacking my future wife – or shall I just kill you now and spare you the trouble." There was a malevolent edge to the Black Magician's voice, and it sliced through the heavily charged atmosphere of the room. Still supporting Sonea, he stepped forwards and casually raised his hand. His smile turned into one of cold satisfaction as he saw the fear flicker in the faces of the two Warriors.

Suddenly, the sound of running feet exploded through the main doors. Balkan, surrounded by several Warriors and closely followed by a group of novices, burst into the room.

"What, in the name of the Eye, is happening here? Garrel, explain yourself!" Balkan demanded, looking at the Warrior in consternation and anger.

Garrel surveyed the magicians who flanked Lord Balkan and , as his eyes met with Regin's, his look of discomfort increased. He looked from Balkan's blustering face to Akkarin's glowering features where he stood, thwarted in his vengeance by the arrival of the magicians. Garrel opened his mouth but no words came out.

"The..._Lady _Sonea," Alya spoke through gritted teeth as she addressed the High Lord. "Lady Sonea," she continued, "has killed a patient, I believe, in an attempt to take his power with black magic. I disturbed her and unfortunately he bled to death. If you check, I am sure you will find that he held strong latent magic. The temptation was clearly too much to resist. It seems that her ambitions are greater than the Guild after all."

Alya turned her steel grey eyes to Sonea who had begun to shake with shock and fatigue. Akkarin pulled her closer.

"You lie," he said in a dangerously low voice. "They arranged for this man to be brought here at an appointed time. Sonea's escort was mysteriously taken ill giving Garrel the opportunity to bring her here. He then feigned illness in order to leave her alone with a patient and to give Alya the chance to appear and instruct Sonea to use black magic on the man. Alya then planned to leave just in time for Garrel to return and witness the event." Akkarin scowled at Garrel who visibly recoiled.

Balkan frowned. "Why would Sonea do what they asked? It makes no sense."

"Because Alya has my cousin - a four year old boy – at her family house" Sonea turned her face from Akkarin's robes and spoke through chattering teeth.

"I believe that Alya deliberately befriended him for the purpose of forcing my hand. She showed him to me in her memories and told me that if I didn't do her bidding, she had accomplices who would arrange his death at her word." Sonea's eyes glistened with sudden tears.

"Please- can someone be sent to him; he must be so frightened by now."

"She knows I have taken the boy to my heart. She knows I was bringing him to the City today. She has concocted an excuse for her crimes." Alya raged, her face reddening as her composure wavered.

"Enough!" Balkan barked suddenly. "I am afraid, Alya, that I have reason to doubt your word," and he glanced at the brown robed figures in the periphery of his vision.

"Doubt _my _word?" The Warrior almost choked as she spoke. She muttered a curse but Balkan held up his hand.

"I said enough! Lady Alya, do you accuse Lady Sonea of using, or attempting to use, black magic, and of killing a man in the process?" He stared at the woman sternly and resolutely. Alya took a breath to steady herself.

"Yes, I do."

"Then you will submit to a truth read, as is the law of the Guild. I will perform it. Given the nature of the accusation, you have no objections to my performing it now?" He asked taking a step towards Alya.

Garrel, who had remained silent, finally found his voice.

"There is no need to inconvenience Lady Alya. I accuse Sonea also – I will submit to the truth read." He licked his lips but stepped forwards, smiling.

"My evidence as Head of Warriors carries more weight than Alya's. " He glanced at Alya, " your pardon Lady – I mean no slight." Garrel moved towards the High Lord.

"Balkan - shall we?"

"Did you witness Sonea cut this man's throat?" Balkan frowned and gestured to the now shrouded body beyond, the Healers standing beside him.

"_Did _you witness Sonea attempt to use black magic?"

"I...I saw her attack the Lady Alya on my return to the room. It was unfortunate that I was taken ill, but fortunate for us all that Alya came across the Black Magician when she did. Now, if you perform the mind read, you will see her wicked attack on one of our finest Warriors who sought nothing more than to constrain her." Again he stepped towards Balkan.

"Lord Garrel, I ask you again – did you witness Sonea use, or attempt to use, black magic?" Balkan remained steadfast and unmoved by Garrel's verbal manoeuvrings.

"No." Garrel replied weakly and his shoulders slumped.

"Then you cannot accuse Sonea of this crime, and therefore cannot submit to the truth read. That leaves Alya. Lady, if you will. Akkarin," Balkan turned to the Black Magicians, "lower your shield around them; there are enough of us here for there to be no threat."

Akkarin did not move and the faint hum of the shield continued into the otherwise silent room.

"Akkarin..." Balkan said warningly.

"They would have _killed_ her, " his voice was unusually raised. "They deliberately caused her pain and torment." Akkarin's features remained as black as his eyes as he continued to regard Garrel and Alya with such malevolence, that it almost appeared as if a dark aura pulsated around him, enveloping Sonea in a protective halo of power.

"Akkarin," Sonea spoke so that only he could hear as she looked up into his pale face.

"Please...Don't become what they are. They cannot win this now. Alya cannot hide the truth in her mind."

They held each other's eyes - black on deeper black – then Akkarin touched Sonea's cheek, gently running his finger down the line of her scar.

"As you wish it," he said softly.

The buzzing of the shield abruptly stopped and some of the tension in the room dissipated.

"Lady Alya," Balkan gestured for her to approach him as he stood next to the Black Magicians.

"Come." He nodded at her as she hesitated and did not move. Then, glancing at Garrel, who now looked puce, she slowly walked towards the High Lord, her face hard and proud.

"Know the truth then! Look hard and deep and know everything, " she said bitterly, her voice harsh and rasping.

"Know what your precious Guild has denied me - and itself. I am one of its greatest Warriors and yet you do not even know it! My own family see me as nothing more than a brood mare who did not bring home the first prize."

Tears of anger and bitterness filled her eyes as she glanced to Akkarin. Years of pent frustrations and rejections finally over-spilling. She grabbed Balkan's hands and placed them viciously on her temples.

"I have nothing to hide anymore , and I am not ashamed." She spoke now to the room.

"I am true to myself," she glanced at the faces that stared at her, "unlike you snivelling dogs who beg at the slum girl and her lover's table for scraps, when mere weeks ago you would have kicked them like disobedient hounds!" ALya then looked levelly at Balkan, her features smoothing into calmness.

"Do it!" She said savagely.

Balkan closed his eyes, but all others were fixed on the pair. The air in the room was still, not even disturbed by the inhaling and exhaling of breath. Finally the High Lord opened his eyes and they were filled with a detached sympathy as he regarded Alya intently. His hands fell to his sides and his head moved in a barely perceptible nod at the proud woman who stood before him. He took a breath and glanced around the room.

"Sonea speaks the truth. Lady Alya and Lord Garrel have plotted to force Sonea into using black magic. Today, Sonea thwarted their scheme with a talent for forced mind reading that was, until now, unknown." He shot a sideways glance at Sonea, his lips slightly pursed.

"Alya and Garrel can request a secondary truth read, as is their right, but for now they will be taken into custody and the King informed. It will be decided amongst the Higher Magicians of course, but the usual punishment for a crime of this magnitude would be a binding of powers and expulsion from the Guild." Balkan's eyes fastened on Garrel's as he gasped and reeled backwards. Balkan turned to Alya, and he could not hide the disgust on his face.

"Lady Alya, you crime is the most serious; the murdering of an innocent civilian by someone in your priviledged position sickens me. Yoy are likely to spend the rest of your life in prison - or worse; again the decision is not only mine."

"Lord Tyrell," the High Lord indicated one of the Warriors at his side. "You and your men take these two to the holding cells at the Guild rather than the City Prison; they will need magical containment – at least four Warriors to each of them at any one time. I know this will not be easy; they are of your own." Balkan shook his head as he spoke. "But they have caused disruption at a time when it was least needed."

Balkan held the two accused with a hard stare. He sighed. "Take them," he ordered. The Warrior nodded grimly and moved towards Garrel, taking his arm and leading him forward. Another Warrior walked towards Alya.

Garrel's face flushed with humiliation and he walked briskly by the black gaze of Akkarin. As he approached the novices, Garrel hesitated and glanced up at the taller figure of his nephew.

"Regin, I...I did it for us; our family, the other Houses. We cannot be tainted, our nobility diluted."

Regin bit down on his cheeks, his expression cold and unbending.

"I would have thought that way too once; but Thieves saved my life, and a girl from the Slums saved my City." Regin's gaze flickered to Sonea as she stood, still being supported by Akkarin. Regin swallowed hard and buried feelings that rose unbidden to the surface of his mind.

_Bury them for good,_ he thought as he glanced again to the two Black Magicians as they stood in each other's embrace. _Bury them so deep that they will never trouble you again. _He turned his attention back to his uncle who stood, still searching for some understanding in his nephew's face.

"You shame our family." Then Regin slowly and deliberately turned his back on his uncle, standing to face Akkarin and Sonea, bowing his head slightly to them. One by one, the other novices and onlookers followed suit, each turning their backs to Garrel and Alya, and making their show of respect to the Black Magicians.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" The shriek of Alya broke the interlude as she struggled against the Warrior who had taken her arm to lead her after Garrel. She shook at the young man's hand violently and, embarrassed and uncertain, he let go.

"I will go willingly – I have that much pride left," she spat. Balkan nodded to the guard at Alya's side who then gestured for her to follow Garrel as he fell in step behind. She walked slowly, her hands in the folds of her cloak, stony faced and chin held high.

As she approached the Black Magicians, her eyes shifted to meet the malign glitter of Akkarin's. A sudden flash of raging fire momentarily melted the iciness of her composed features. Memories stabbed at her like a knife thrust. Memories that she had hidden deep all these years; hidden even from herself, though the part of Alya's soul that was simply a woman had secretly cherished and nurtured them.

No-one reacted immediately; most were still resolutely ignoring the captives. The High Lord intent on Garrel, a sadness in his gaze as it bore into the back of the Warrior as he was led away. Akkarin was looking down at Sonea as he held her, his lips brushing the top of her head. Only when a flash of bright golden hair whipped suddenly in the edge of his vision, did he glance up sharply and realise what was afoot.

Alya was screaming, obscenities and curses tore from her throat, her teeth bared and spittle forming on her lips. Her face was twisted almost beyond recognition. She pulled her hand from beneath her cloak and the bloodied silver of the knife she had used earlier sheared upwards in an arc as she lunged towards Sonea.

Two things happened then. Regin, who was the nearest to Alya as she turned in her attack, grabbed at the woman as she bore down with murderous intent on Sonea. The novice managed to grab the hood of Alya's cloak before she tore free and continued her onslaught; but Regin's act had delayed her momentum for a fraction of a second. In that split second, Akkarin pushed Sonea to the floor, out of the way of the arcing knife that was slicing through the air towards them.

Akkarin did not cry out as the blade came glittering at his unprotected body , taking its first sacrifice of blood from his upraised arm before it bit greedily through silk and flesh, burying itself between his ribs. Alya backed away, her mouth moving in a spasmodic grin of shocked pleasure. The victim was not the intended one, but no matter, her vengeance was taken.

Sonea, lay sprawled and rigid in the stone floor her dark eyes fathomless.

"Akkarin..." she whispered before utter silence descended on the shocked room like a veil.

Akkarin's hand dropped and his long fingers locked around the hilt of the knife as it protruded obscenely from his body. He sagged to his knees coughing – a film dulling his jet black stare. His head turned to Sonea and, for a moment, their eyes met, then blood, almost as black as his robes cascaded from his mouth and he keeled sideways onto the cold stone floor.

**A/N: Thanks for reading; please review. Ooops! Just read Kyralian's review and realised that when I wrote of the punishment I was only thinking of Garrel - totally overlooked the fact that Alya had killed a man! Whilst I like to think of myself as a social liberal, I'm not quite that forgiving! I've now redressed the balance!**

**To answer one of the guest reviewers questions about the last chapter, Garrel only hesitated because he was assessing if the plan he and Alya had concocted could still work before he went along with the changed circumstances - definately no feelings of concern for Sonea involved in his decision making!**


	9. Chapter 8 There are no easy endings

**It's another long one, sorry! I really could not cut and paste this as, hopefully, you're about to see...My copy of The Traitor Queen is due to land on my doorstep today, which prompts me to say- it all belongs to Trudi ( except Alya -what a woman to claim as my own!).**

**Chapter Eight -There _are_ no easy endings...**

"Vinara! I think he's waking."

An anxious voice drifted to the man's ears as if from a great distance. Bright light pervaded his closed eyelids creating beautiful swirls of pattern in his inner sight. What felt like cool fingers were placed on his brow and he abruptly became aware of his physical body. He felt every nerve of his skin tingle, felt his muscles protest and spasm at their inactivity, felt his heart thud within him as the air, cool and clean rushed down his airway to fill his lungs.

"Yes; he is waking – his power is almost replenished. Inform Lord Balkan, and, " the new female speaker paused as if considering, "you'd best tell Lord Rothen also. I sent him to get some food and rest. Try his rooms, though he'll be back at Sonea's side soon, no doubt." The woman sighed, sounding tired and sad.

The man on the bed stirred slightly as memories swirled around his head, a confusion of images from both dream and memory and he struggled to separate the two. Then one image stood still in his mind where the others continued to race by; he knew it to be a true image, though it felt like a nightmare. Sonea: her crumpled form on the floor of the University grounds. The smoking crater, that seconds before had been the Ichani leader, Kariko, lay between the unconscious woman and the man, as he felt himself succumbing to the irresistible pressure of exhaustion and shock. The man on the bed felt panic rise unbidden at the memory, hauling him into the waking world.

-_Sonea_? He called out with his mind. There was no returning call; no response. He sensed nothing. Vinara had heard the mental call, clear with renewed strength and fear.

"Akkarin," she said gently but with a warning undertone. "You must take it steady. You have been unconscious for a whole day. Your battle with Kariko exhausted you."

Akkarin murmured something unintelligible moving his head from side to side as he tried to dispel the last vestiges of prolonged sleep.

"Akkarin, you are in the Healing Quarter. It is Vinara. Can you open your eyes?"

Again soothing hands on his face and a steady flow of Healing energy. His eyelids fluttered, then two pools of black torment fastened on the Healers anxious face.

"Sonea?" He croaked through dry lips.

"Shhhhh, Akkarin. Don't try to speak yet; you need water." Vinara signalled for one of the Healers present to bring water from a low table under the window.

"Sonea," he whispered again more urgently as he propped himself up on his elbows. Vinara held his dark eyes with difficulty.

"She's alive Akkarin. She's here, just up the corridor, but..."

Akkarin swung his legs out of bed grabbing a robe that lay on a chair next to him.

"Take me to her." He said clearly now in a low voice. He stood on shaky legs, towering over Vinara, but as he took a step his knees treacherously gave way beneath him and he stumbled. Vinara caught his arm, supporting his gaunt frame upright.

"At least take some food and water first." Vinara pleaded. Akkarin blinked solemnly at the Healer, but indicated with long fingers for the proffered glass of water. He took long slow gulps until the glass was drained.

"Now, take me to see her, " his eyes burned, "- please."

Vinara sighed resignedly, the pursed line of her mouth softening. "Come, I will take you. Can you walk?" She asked.

Akkarin nodded, tying the sash of his robe, and she led the way out of the room, walking slowly up the corridor. The tall Black Magician followed in silence. Vinara finally stopped at a door some way up, pausing as she faced the door.

"Akkarin, I don't know how much you saw of her injuries, but..."

"I know every one of her injuries as if they were my own," he murmured darkly through clenched teeth, and his brow drew together in a frown.

"The rings we found?" Vinara asked, thinking of the rings they had found on him and Sonea. The Black Magician regarded her stonily but did not answer her enquiry.

"We know about blood gems. Kariko made one for Rothen and he has regaled us with their crueller uses; Kariko wore Rothen's when he held Sonea- Rothen saw everything through the eyes of the Ichani." Vinara shuddered and looked away, then winced in realisation.

"You saw everything too – through Sonea's eyes?" Vinara gasped . Still Akkarin did not speak, though his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed again. "I never thought to see magic put to such cruel uses," the Healer said, shaking her head wearily.

At Vinara's mental command, the door opened slowly onto a small light-filled room. Under the window, as in the other room, was a long low table arrayed with various medical supplies. Facing the door was an armchair, and next to the chair was a bed containing someone who may have been a child. Dark hair lay spread on the pillow and pale lids were closed in an ashen face. The woman's lips, slightly parted , inhaled and exhaled air , the resulting rise and fall the sheet the only sign of life. A female magician held the small hand of the unconscious woman and she glanced up as the door swung open. She was red-eyed and blotchy faced.

"Tya, I told you to see your family and then get some rest. I thought you had gone with Rothen." Vinara said gently.

"I could not leave her on her own; they are still trying to locate her aunt and uncle, but there is so much confusion." The young woman sniffed and Vinara smiled sympathetically.

"You may go now," the Healer said, shooting a meaningful glance at the man at her shoulder.

Tya stood and bowed to Vinara and, placing Sonea's hand gently on the sheet, she walked briskly from the room, only briefly glancing up to look warily at Akkarin as she passed. Vinara moved into the room but the Black Magician seemed rooted to the spot at the threshold. He stared unblinking at the bed, taking in the slightly metallic taint to the air as his nostrils flared in the effort to contain emotions.

_Blood, _he thought_ . I can smell blood in the air. Her blood. _ Akkarin's stomach lurched, threatening to rebel as he faced the knowledge of what had happened for the first time since had he knelt on the dust covered floor under the University the day before. Vinara assumed the role of healer, her voice the perfunctory tone of years of practice.

"We have accelerated the healing process on the broken bones, but the worst fractures will still take some weeks to fully heal. The cuts and flesh wounds have been closed, but we prefer to leave the final stages of healing with deeper wounds to nature; we find it minimises the scarring." The Healer, who had been placing her hands on Sonea's temples, now glanced at Akkarin who still stood in the doorway.

"Her power, like yours, replenished fully sometime earlier today," Vinara frowned. " We have tried to enter the peripheral areas of her mind to determine if she is close to consciousness, but we have met with very strong barriers and we cannot pass them. That is very unusual for a sleeping mind – but then, this is an unusual situation." Vinara took a breath and turned back to Sonea, stealing herself to broach a subject that must be raised, but for which she was struggling to find the words. She knew ,from Dorrien, that Sonea and Akkarin had become intimate in Sachaka and, whether just a physical release in face of their peril, or something more, Vinara did not relish the thought of what she must say. She swallowed hard.

"You should know...We are not sure...Sonea may not be able to carry a child." The Healer studied Sonea's face intently, not daring to look up. "The Ichani certainly lived up to the cruel picture you painted of them. She suffered some internal injuries that could only have been caused by the most brutal acts. The injuries we can heal; it is the scarring that may cause some problems as any pregnancy progresses. We are not entirely sure yet; it is early days." No sound came from the Black Magician in the doorway.

_Now for the worst part_, Vinara thought. _I may not approve of his taking advantage of a desperate situation, but, if he feels anything for the girl, this will not be easy to hear._

"I have not told anyone else yet, but I am as certain as I can be that Sonea was pregnant before she was taken by Kariko. She is not any more," she stated grimly before pausing."It was yours?" she asked.

Now Vinara turned and looked at Akkarin accusingly, then fervently wished she had not. Any thoughts that the Black Magician had sought only physical comfort from his former novice were swiftly banished as the Healer took in the agonies that played across Akkarin's face. His eyes glittered though no tears fell. His jaw worked though no words came out. He walked slowly into the room and around the foot of the bed until he stood opposite Vinara, his eyes fixed on the only thing to have had his attention since the door to the room had opened. Sonea's face, though bearing fading bruises and healing cuts, looked peaceful. Akkarin's gaze flickered over her arms and neck, his eyes narrowing as he took in the bruises and marks that covered them. He leaned forwards and grasped a corner of the cotton sheet that covered her small frame.

"No! Akkarin! Don't! Please don't!" Vinara exclaimed, horrified as she realised what he was about to do. The Black Magician met her wide eyes and saw the pleading in them. His eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. He looked back to Sonea's face for a long moment then suddenly sank to his knees his fingers releasing the sheet and instead grasping her hand and pulling it to his lips. His other arm rested on the pillow as his long fingers tangled in her hair. Vinara exhaled a relieved breath and looked at Akkarin with cool pity in her eyes. His lips muttered something inaudible.

"I'm sorry? What was that?" Vinara asked gently.

"I said – yes, it was mine, " he whispered before placing his head down on the bed, his unbound hair lying like black wings on the white sheet.

* * *

"Akkarin!"

Akkarin's eyes snapped open at the sound of his name and for a moment, sweet oblivion lay over his rousing mind before the cold hand of knowledge and realisation pulled it away. He lifted his head, his fingers still loosely curled around Sonea's, and looked straight into the fiercely cold glare of Rothen. The Alchemist sat in a chair on the other side of the bed, his face haggard.

"Akkarin; Balkan and Osen wish to speak with you." Rothen said in a hard tone, the tension and discomfort oozing from his every pore. The Black Magician looked to Sonea's pale face then back to Rothen's.

"I am glad you are alive Rothen," he said softly. "I understand that Kariko had a blood ring of yours; I am sorry you had to endure that."

Rothen's jaw tightened. "Lord Balkan and Lord Osen are waiting. The Healer will take you." Rothen nodded to a man who stood hovering uncertainly by the door. Akkarin turned to him.

"Tell Lord Balkan and Lord Osen that if they wish to speak with me then they must either wait, or come here." Akarrin told him firmly.

"As you wish, my Lord," and he hurried from the room.

"You think that _this_ is a suitable place to discuss yours and the Guilds future?" Rothen asked with undisguised disgust.

"No, but I will not leave her now." The younger man replied and there was a challenge in his eyes as they held Rothen's steadily. As they heard footsteps, Rothen dropped his eyes then rose suddenly.

"I need some air; this room is about to become too crowded," he said under his breath as he moved towards the door, opening it to reveal Balkan and others hovering outside; he scowled at them and walked past.

Akkarin pulled himself gracefully from his slumped position on the floor, reluctantly releasing Sonea's hand as he straightened, tightening the sash of his robes to face the magicians as they entered the room. Balkan looked uncomfortably towards the bed, his gaze drawn reluctantly as a shadow that may have been guilt or regret passed over his face. Osen stood at the Warrior's shoulder, his expression unreadable as, he too, glanced to the bed. Akkarin stood looking at them intently but silently. Balkan cleared his throat.

"It is good to see you recovered Akkarin. It seems we owe you an apology: you spoke the truth about the Ichani. I hope you understand that, without being able to carry out a truth read, we felt we had no choice but to exile you." Balkan paused. "It is regrettable that Sonea fell into their hands."

"And yet, it placed her in the perfect position to attack without them considering her a threat." A new voice spoke from behind Osen. The administrator glanced to see Garrel as he entered the room, then looked back towards the bed. Akkarin took a step forwards menacingly and made as if to speak but Osen forestalled him hastily.

"Of course Lord Garrel, but we would not have wished for Sonea to have paid such a high price."

Garrel adopted a look of sympathy. "No. No. Of course not."

Akkarin took a breath to steady himself, rocking back on his heels,and looked back resolutely to Balkan. "What are our losses?" he asked.

"Approaching half our number, most of them Warriors, " he said grimly. "I know it is harsh, but we need as much information as you can give us about Sachaka," he paused," and we also need to clarify your position amongst us."

"Amongst you? I - we," Akkarin glanced at Sonea," - are accepted back into the Guild then?" The Black Magician's voice was low but betrayed nothing. Balkan looked awkward and cleared his throat again.

"Under the circumstances, yours – and Sonea's – use of black magic is exonerated; it seems we have much to learn from our hidden history. It has to go the vote, of course, when we can rally people, but the king is most insistent that you resume a role within the Guild. Indeed, if we are honest, we need you. Clearly there will have to be precautions put in place to satisfy the less trusting, but..."

"Clearly." Akkarin said with a sardonic half smile.

"In fact," Balkan continued, "I think you may find our king quite changed by the last weeks. Sonea saved him, I believe." Akkarin inclined his head in confirmation. The Head of Warriors took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows.

"In fact, the king wishes you to reprise your role as High Lord." All eyes in the room bored into Akkarin, the atmosphere coiled like a spring.

"No." Akkarin said unequivocally. He looked back at Sonea and suddenly sat down next to the bed, his frown casting his eyes into a shadow of unfathomable darkness. The other magicians glanced at each other, taken aback and unsure at the decisiveness of the former High Lord's answer.

" If I am honest, we do not think it is the best way to take the Guild forward, but I think the king would like to think that you have fully cons..."

"No."

"But..."

"I took the role of High Lord because it gave me the opportunity to monitor Sachaka in secret. The Ichani are no longer an immediate threat. The responsibility should pass to someone else." Akkarin looked steadily and meaningfully at Balkan and made a subtle inclination of his head that was not lost on the others present.

"I did not seek them," he continued, "but I now have other responsibilities." His expression was implacable and final and he turned back to stare at his fellow Black Magician.

"What is going on here?" Vinara exclaimed as she stood in the doorway then entered the rapidly crowding room.

"Balkan? This is hardly the appropriate place to convene a meeting. Shame on you!" She snapped reprovingly.

"Osen; I would have expected better from you!" She gave the young man a hard glare as they looked at her repentantly. Garrel looked on impassively and Vinara gave him a black look that implied she did _not _expect better from him. Balkan met the Healers disapproving face.

"Akkarin would not leave the room at my request," he said. Despite the Warrior's explanation, Vinara's attention did not waver from the red robed Warrior and his companions.

"He has barely been awake an hour and understandably wished to see Sonea. Could you not have waited before interrogating him? Out!" She scolded, bustling Balkan and Garrel towards the door.

"This is a place of healing and _not_ the Guildhall!"

Balkan paused on the threshold, glancing back at Sonea and then addressing Akkarin.

"You will let me know if there is any change?" The Black Magician nodded once and Balkan and Garrel left the room with Vinara. Osen hesitated however, glancing at Vinara who was speaking animatedly in the corridor to the other magicians. The administrator took a step towards the bed, taking a deep breath as he did so.

"I think now is a time for plain speaking." He looked at Akkarin. "We both know, I'm sure, that I have never been your greatest advocate, but-" Osen's hand clenched at his side, "I _am_ grateful for what you have both done for the Guild. I just wish you had not involved Sonea." His tone hardened. "I am truly sorry for her suffering; of us all, she least deserved it."

Akkarin's frown deepened, his face bleak. "If I could have avoided it, I would have, believe me. Circumstances overtook me and I felt I had no choice but to take her as my novice."

There was a pause. "Have you tried to enter her mind?" Osen enquired. " The Healers, I understand, have had no success."

"No, I have not tried yet. If the barriers of even her unconscious mind are so powerful, I think it wise to wait until I feel stronger – though hopefully she will wake soon on her own."

_But to hope, or despair, I wonder? _Osen thought sadly as he looked at Sonea's sleeping face. The young man looked thoughtful, then spoke softly, so as not to be heard by the others outside the room.

"I could not help but notice your strong reaction to Lord Garrel just now. You know he will want the Head of Warriors post if, as now seems likely, Balkan becomes High Lord." Osen studied Akkarin intently for his reaction. The older magician's features became savage.

"He spoke as if Sonea's captivity and torment were a small price to pay for victory; as if he could not have planned it better himself." The Black Magician paused and looked away, frowning.

"I also had some strange dreams while I slept. I dreamt Sonea awoke only to find herself assailed by new enemies from within the Guild, bent on destroying her; Garrel being one. Did Lady Alya survive the attack?"

Osen raised an eyebrow . "Your dreams have likely villains. Yes, Alya is alive. She fought fiercely and skilfully they say. I admit I have no great liking for her, but she will be a welcome survivor of the Warrior camp."

"Mmm; as long as dreams don't come true." Akkarin said grimly under his breath. Osen stood a moment lost in thought, then, suddenly his eyes brimmed with tears.

"You spoke with Lorlen before he..." the words came tightly from Osen's throat. The Black Magician's face softened in empathy as he glanced up at the younger man. The one thing that both men had in common was that they counted Lorlen as a close friend.

"Yes. He was at peace and in no pain at the end." Akkarin said softly.

Osen nodded and bowed his head, brushing the back of his hand briefly against his cheek. He looked to Sonea as she lay and did not move.

"You will look after her now, won't you?" Osen held the black stare defiantly, inwardly bracing himself for a retort at the implication in his question, but none came. Instead a look of such tortured guilt filled the jet eyes that stared back, that Osen immediately regretted his jibe. He cleared his throat.

"From what I have heard since the Ichani defeat, I don't think you should concern yourself with whether you will be accepted by the Guild members. The Houses are another matter of course, but I think most will follow the King's lead – he bitterly regrets his treatment of you."

"Does he?" Akkarin said darkly, then he sighed wearily.

"I am tired Osen; I do not seek acceptance. I have done all I could to save the Guild in the best way I could think of. I never thought to survive this, but now that I have...I am tired of playing a part. I want to be true to myself; I have no energy left for anything else." He turned to Sonea, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. There was a moments silence as both men pondered the words, then Akkarin drew a breath and spoke in a quiet voice, heavy with emotion of past and present grief.

"I thought my time as a slave had turned my heart to stone. It made it easier on my return to carry out my subterfuge; easier to lie to those I held most dear." Akkarin's eyes narrowed. "I did not expect, or even want it, but she chipped away , each day a little more, until the prison of my heart fell away and I found it beating stronger than ever. It made exile almost unbearable, to find what I never thought to know again at a time of such turmoil. When she refused to stay at the Guild, my heart leapt with hope and yet plummeted in despair." Akkarin looked up to meet Osen's gaze as he listened intently to the Black Magician's story.

"I lost my first love – in the Sachakan desert, long ago. I did not want Sonea to suffer the same fate. I could not have borne that. If there had been a way of making her stay, I would have grasped it with both hands."

The two men held each others' gaze until Osen nodded slowly, his eyes slipping to Sonea.

"You love her then?"

"More than I thought possible," and a brief smile touched Akkarin's lips but faded quickly. "And just as before, I could not prevent her suffering. Maybe I am a curse to those I love. If she does not wake I..." Akkarin could not finish and passed a hand over his face.

"She is strong – she will wake." Osen said with more conviction than he felt and, hesitating for just a moment, he placed his hand on the Black Magician's shoulder.

* * *

The next days passed despairingly for all, as they counted their losses and as Sonea continued to show no sign of waking. Akkarin became brooding and despondent, though he gained some comfort from making his peace with Rothen, the two men silently sharing the burden of what they had witnessed. After three days Vinara finally relented, declaring that Akkarin was mentally strong enough to try and reach Sonea's consciousness. For himself, the Black Magician had only agreed to wait because he knew it was best if Sonea found her own way back, but as the days passed, physical necessity made the mind read unavoidable.

Now the image of Akkarin stood on the plateau of Sonea's mind , buffeted by an unseen floor beneath his feet as his consciousness desperately reached out a straining hand towards the small and frightened girl that was Sonea. A great black chasm yawned hopelessly between them.

"...We can face this together...please." Akkarin shouted amidst the turmoil of the mind that raged about him.

She stared, her face an indistinct oval in which only her eyes looked smudged and dark. Her pale lips moved, murmuring softly as Akkarin struggled to hear.

"I am sorry Akkarin." With his name, the girl directly met his wide and horrified eyes. "I cannot. I have no strength left to face it," she whispered. She glanced at the huge pulsating, black door that loomed malevolantly over the scene.

" I am so tired; so tired. I just want to sleep... Remember that I loved you."

The last words were almost lost as, agonizingly slowly, the child Sonea turned away from Akkarin's tall figure, the dark pools of her eyes over-spilling with tears. The ugly black door seemed to grow, filling the landscape as she began to sing her lament again in her sweet childish voice. Akkarin shouted, his expression terrible, the words completely taken now by the storm that surrounded him. The girl's figure quickly became lost, shrouded as the shimmering veils fell in place behind her. Then the eerie singing abruptly stopped. The blackness became all consuming, utterly devoid of colour, and Akkarin felt as if a hammer had smashed into his skull. Voiceless, he cried out in agony.

"Akkarin!" Hands grasped at him, shaking him, and the voice of a woman shouted his name over and over. Then, suddenly he inhaled a great breath, filling his lungs that were empty of oxygen. His eyes snapped open as Vinara fearfully called his name again. Akkarin raised his head from where he had slumped on the bed, blacking out with the strength of force which had pushed him from Sonea's mind. As if through a haze he saw Rothen opposite him, sobbing, the tears streaming down his face as he grasped the hand of the girl who had become a daughter to him as she lay between the two men.

"SONEA! No, no, no, no! Please! No, no! !" Akkarin cried out, pleading to unhearing ears, his face twisted in torment. He reached forwards with long fingers and desperately cupped her face gently. Tears he had been refusing to shed fell in silent torrents down his cheeks as he bent his dark head, the raven's wing shadow of his hair brushing her face. He kissed her cold and unfeeling lips, then raised his head and looked into her dark eyes, for they had opened with her last breath to gaze one last time on the keeper of her heart. But there was no stubborn, wilful spark in the depths of the stare; no light of life to brighten the blackness of loss and despair.

"Sonea," he whispered, " I would have given you the strength."

Akkarin gathered her to him, Rothen releasing her hand, so that the Black Magician could hold her limp form in his tight embrace, as he rocked her, gently smoothing the dark clouds of her hair that fell about her ashen face.

"Shhhh...Sonea. Be at peace now. I am so sorry. Shhh..." Akkarin whispered before great shuddering sobs racked his body, breaking the man that had been stoic in all other endurances and losses; but now his very soul cried, for this loss was too great for him to bear.

Vinara took Rothen's arm gently, guiding him to the door. They left the room quietly, shutting the door on the high born noble man and the low born slum girl; the two Black Magicians who had saved their city, had somehow found each other, but had paid the highest and cruellest price imaginable.

**A/N: ! Gulp! **

**If you've taken the time to read this through, thanks! I really do appreciate it. Since I cannot thank them personally, I'd like to say thankyou to any guest reviewers. As ever more reviews are very welcome!**

**O.K. - I've just read Rilawa's review, and my, admitedly, insane curve ball has seriously come back to hit me in the face if it is not eventually obvious in this chapter that Akkarin considers the events of the previous chapters,and the final two chapters of 'No easy endings', to have been a dream whilst he slept following the battle with Kariko.**

**"I also had some strange dreams whilst I slept...etc." I knew this was a mad one that might not go down too well, but I was hoping that the dream thing was explained sufficiently. Whilst I expected it to make readers go "What the hell...?" (though that wasn't the reason for me posting the chapter), I did think that it was self explanatory! Sorry for any confusion! **


	10. Chapter 9 Retributions

**Chapter 9 - Retribution**

Takan walked down the upstairs corridor of the Black Magician's Residence. The faint light of a new day filtered in through the windows of the adjoining rooms, turning the blackness of night into a watery grey. Silence lay over the Guild; only the distant sound of servants opening and shutting doors, readying themselves for the day ahead, could be heard by those magicians who rose early enough. But as the Sachakan servant padded past each room, another sound grew louder with every footstep. A soft, low muffled moaning, punctuated by an anguished cry, also disturbed the peace of this hour. Takan hurried his pace, reaching a smooth wooden door as a cry rent the air from the other side. Takan turned the handle and entered the gloomy room, his concern prompting him to dispense with the protocol of knocking to which he always adhered, for his friend, and not his master needed him.

"Master?" Despite himself, he could not bring himself to call Akkarin by his name. As the servant's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the shape of a man in the bed twisted in the sheets and crying even as he slept.

"Master!" Takan exclaimed more urgently. He had witnessed many of Akkarin's nightmares, but had never seen him shed tears in his sleep before. The servant walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at the Black Magician's face; a sheen of sweat was visible on the tortured features and Akkarin's breathing was the shallow and rapid pace that came with panic and fear. Takan reached forwards and grasped a lean arm, shaking it.

Akkarin!" The name felt alien on the Sachakan's tongue, but the urgent cry served its purpose. The Black Magician's eyes flew open and he became perfectly still, staring at his servant with wide and horrified eyes. Akkarin felt his heart beating as fast and as wildly as the rapid breaths he inhaled and exhaled. He glanced to his side at the cold space in the bed next to him and his arm stretched out, filling the emptiness.

"Where is Sonea?" He asked quietly, turning a quizzical face back to Takan.

The servant's features became etched with concern. "You know where she is Master," he answered quietly. "Master, are you well? It has been a long time since you had such nightmares." Takan said softly. Akkarin did not answer, but moved a hand to clutch at his chest and Takan's frown deepened.

"Is it your wound?" The Sachakan continued when the magician did not answer. " It has only been eight days. Maybe Lady Vinara did not do right by accelerating the Healing so much. The knife only narrowly missed your heart." Not for the first time in the last week, Takan felt a wave of fear wash over him as he recalled how close Akkarin had come to death. The servant knew that if there had not been experienced Healers present, Akkarin may well have bleed to death that day. As the servant contemplated, his master's face relaxed as the last vestiges of his dream lost their hold; the tension in his body dissolved as he slumped back on soft pillows letting out a long breath. He looked up at Takan.

"I asked her to Takan," he said gently in answer to the servants concern. "I did not want today postponed; that would have been a small victory for Alya and Garrel at least." He glanced down at his bare chest. "The scar itches a little - that is all. Other than that, I am fine." As he spoke, Akkarin looked to the empty space in the bed beside him and a momentary shadow passed over his face. "As for my nightmare; yes, it has been a long time, and I have never had a dream so clear and vivid." He took a long ragged breath.

"I dreamt that Sonea...died; following Kariko's defeat. I dreamt that she could not find the strength to face what had happened; that I could not bring her back from where her soul was hiding." Akkarin's eyes narrowed as his heart lurched within him as he remembered those days following the Ichani defeat, waiting for Sonea to wake; and the day that he finally entered her mind and brought her home. He shook his head to clear it and tried to smile reassuringly up at his servant, but Takan hovered uncertainly, a line still creasing his brow.

"I am not the only one to think you are rushing things. Lady Sonea was also in favour of letting things heal at a slower pace, I remember."

Akkarin grimaced, pushing himself up into a seated position, as he recalled the disagreement that had ensued following his insistence that Vinara heal the injury that Alya had inflicted fully, not caring for the greater surface scarring that may result. Sonea had only let the argument go because she worried for Akkarin's health. Newly repaired tissue, especially that of veins and arteries, were susceptible to rupturing in the first few days. As he thought of Sonea, Akkarin knew where she must be at this hour. From the time when she was his novice, before the days when she had loved him, he had listened to the click of her door and the soft padding of her steps as she hurried past his room every morning at the same early hour.

"Sonea is bathing then?" The Black Magician asked his servant, not needing the reply that was given.

"Of course; up with the sun as always." A faint smile played across Takan's face. " In fact, she was even earlier this morning. I think it was in an effort to escape the ministrations of Jonna who, I'm sure, would have inflicted infinite cruelties on her today." The servant's grin widened, and Akkarin let out a short bark of laughter as he swung his legs out of the bed.

"I am sure she would: poor Sonea!" Akkarin exclaimed as he shook his head again and ran his fingers through his hair. The vivid nightmare still lingered, leaving a dull ache in the pit of his stomach that, despite his efforts, he could not shake. He had had strange dreams in the days following Alya's attack, when Vinara had kept him partially sedated with nemin in order to aid the healing process of such a deep wound, but he had never dreamt of Sonea's death before and it unsettled him.

"Today of all days..." Akkarin muttered under his breath.

"Today of all days...- what, master?" The servant enquired.

"To have such a nightmare today seems...I don't know," Akkarin glanced up at Takan, struggling to find the words, "...it seems like an ill omen." The magician frowned. "Or maybe to suffer such nightmares is my punishment for deeds past. I am not proud of all that I have done, " Akkarin murmured darkly.

"Come, master. In all the time I have known you, you have never believed in such things; have never spoken in that way." Takan looked thoughtful before continuing. "Think, instead, that the events of your nightmare reinforce the joy today will bring, in contrast to what so easily could have been." Takan's eyes became intense and he stepped forwards and grasped Akkarin's shoulder. "You do not know the joy today brings me master; for you to have this chance of happiness."

The two men held each other's gaze; so much sorrow and despair had they seen and themselves endured, that no other words were necessary. The Black Magician briefly clasped the Sachakan's hand and he looked up at Takan's face with an expression of melancholy thoughtfulness.

"Thank you Takan, for everything." He paused , unsure, then his resolve strengthened impulsively and Akkarin asked a question that he had never dared to ask; today, however, was a day to lay _all_ of his ghosts to rest.

"Takan...Have you ever forgiven me?...Dakova's slaves – they were your friends; some of them for many years." The dark eyes that held the golden ones betrayed a fearfulness not often revealed to others. Takan smiled softly.

"Yes, you killed them," the servant said bluntly, " - because you had no choice - but be assured that you saved those slaves that day, as surely as you saved me, and, though they did not live, you released them and set them free." The Sachakan took a breath and his eyes glistened. "Be in no doubt that the price they paid has also since saved the lives of many; Dakova was a cruel master. I forgave you that very day, and am only sorry that you have doubted it all the years since."

Akkarin's grasp on the other man's hand tightened briefly and he bent his head and sighed as if releasing a burden that he had carried for years.

"Thank you," the Black Magician whispered, glancing up again. Then he returned Takan's smile and took a deep breath.

"Now- "he said briskly, suddenly standing and reaching for his clothes, "Sonea will be back soon. Is everything ready for breakfast? Remember: no-one is to disturb us – not even if Jonna arrives." Akkarin grimaced. "How I negotiated having Sonea to myself until after breakfast, I do not know; but if Jonna arrives a minute before the tenth hour, you are not to let her in – understood?" The Sachakan looked grimly at his master.

"I will do my best master, but a woman less intimidated by magicians and all their trappings, I have never met! Are you sure you want to go ahead with today? Like aunt, like niece, you might say." Takan feigned a mortified expression, but when Akkarin glanced at him warningly the Sachakan chuckled.

"I jest master. Sonea is easily twice as formidable as her aunt."

"I will tell her that!" Akkarin exclaimed, but the corners of his mouth twitched as he strode gracefully to the door. Takan stood alone in the room smiling to himself and shaking his head, lost in his happy contemplations.

"Takan!" Akkarin called from down the corridor. "Come! Today is not a day to be idle. Today is the day I get married!"

* * *

Brienna took a deep breath and glanced nervously at the Warrior at her side. She had only been inside the Guild a handful of times, most recently for her brother, Alend's, swearing in ceremony as a novice some four years ago. Even for people such as herself, from one of the most powerful Houses in Kyralia, and with relatives as magicians, as a collective body the magicians of the Guild still held a certain impenetrable mystery. Brienna frowned as she concentrated on the sound of the magician's boots on the stone floor of the narrow corridor they walked along. She was trying not to think about the events of the last week in case she lost her courage and turned and ran, not stopping until she was safely out in the bright sunshine of the University grounds.

An iron gate loomed ominously ahead, dragging the unwanted memories to the forefront of her mind like a magnet. Garrel and Alyas' failed plot against Sonea which had led to murder and attempted murder, had sent ripples of repercussions out from the highest echelons of the Guild, building in momentum until a wave of retribution had come crashing down on Alya and Garrel. The severest punishments had been dealt out to the two Warriors; the King and the Higher Magicians wanting to make a warning example of them to all who might share their discontent about the Black Magicians, Sonea in particular.

Garrel's powers had been bound and he was condemned to spend a term of imprisonment, to be released after eight years into a life of banishment from Imardin and its surrounding areas – an outcast from all he held dear. There had been much debate and disagreement about Alya's punishment, but eventually it was decided that, for the cold blooded slaying of the slum dweller and the attempt on Sonea's life which had nearly led to Akkarin's death, she should face execution. Her powers had also been bound in the meantime to minimise any risk she may still pose.

It was the King , her cousin, that had held the deciding vote, and, to the surprise of many, he elected for Alya's death with grim faced determination. The Warrior had been stony faced and silent in the face of her punishment which was to be carried out only a few days after the marriage of the two Black Magicians. The two conspirators had declined a secondary truth read, accepting their guilt and allowing the whole affair to be dealt with mercifully swiftly for all involved, including themselves.

Brienna had learnt through the usual channels of gossip that Alya's family, including her parents, had declined to visit her; their own self interest dictating their emotions towards their daughter even unto the bitterest of ends. Despite her revulsion at her friend's acts, a pang of sympathy and sadness had dragged at Alend's sister, irresistibly pulling her into this most difficult of visits.

The key in the lock grated, snapping the woman back to the present. She hesitated, ashen faced at the threshold to the holding cells; catching sight of bright golden hair beyond. A pale light filtered in through the high windows, doing nothing to alleviate the heavy and oppressive gloom. Five red robed Warriors sat opposite the furthest cell, grim faced but straight backed and resolute.

"My Lady? Are you sure that you want to continue?" The man at the gate asked softly in concern.

Brienna took a breath. "Yes." She answered quietly but with conviction, and she walked determindly past the man towards the only occupied cell in the room beyond.

As she approached the bars, she stole a glance at the seated Warriors, all studying her intently, their expressions unreadable. Briennna quickly looked away as she thought of the duty they would perform in just a few days time.

"Alya." Brienna whispered, her hands clutching at the bars of the cell.

Alya sat on a small bed and a curtain of hair hung,covering her face.

"Alya." Brienna called again, stronger this time. The Warrior lifted her head, her beautiful features calm, the set of her mouth proud, but her friend detected something else behind the coldness of the gaze – fear.

As the two women held each others' eyes, a world of pain and regret, a lifetime of desires and disappointments, passed between them. Brienna knew well the feelings that had prompted Alya to tread the path she had chosen – she had faced similar crossroads herself – but she could not understand what had ultimately led her friend to take such a dark road that could only spiral downwards into despair.

"May I go in?" Brienna asked without taking her eyes off her friend.

"I'm not sure Lady..." the guard answered, frowning.

"Her powers have been bound haven't they?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then there can be no harm done," Brienna said, turning to regard the guard. "Please," she entreated.

The guard sighed but opened the barred door to the cell. The Warriors behind shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

Brienna walked slowly towards Alya, the other woman standing as she drew near. She stopped one pace from the golden haired magician, then reached forwards to grasp both of her hands tightly.

"Oh Brienna!" Alya gasped and her eyes glittered . "I am so scared."

Brienna felt her heart twist and pulled her friend into her embrace, gently stroking the long fair hair as Alya sobbed, the proud mask finally being washed away by a lifetime of the bitterest of tears.

**A/N : Sorry for the confusion and disappointment of the last chapter. I considered replacing it, but have stuck with it, as I wanted to give an insight into the nightmares that Akkarin suffers ( yes! Chapter 8 was a nightmare he had whilst he recovered from Alya's attack!) , and also how Akkarin may have felt if that mind read had gone differently, and Sonea _had_ died.**

**As ever, thanks for reading, and please review!**


	11. Chapter 10 Black Diamonds

**Warning for readers not really into AkkarinXSonea! **

**Chapter 10 –Black Diamonds**

Sonea, left alone at last, looked in the mirror and sighed, her mouth pulled in a dissatisfied and unhappy grimace. She stared at her reflection but did not recognise the woman who stared back.

_Akkarin will not either, _she thought to herself as she plucked a cloth from the table in front of her. She dabbed gently at the kohl around her eyes and the rouge on her lips and cheeks until only faint traces of each remained. She leaned back, studying herself critically once more.

_Better, but still not right._

She then set to work on her hair with small fingers, loosening and freeing the intricate braids and twists until her dark hair cascaded down her back once more, leaving only a couple of loose twists and decorative pins holding the hair off her face. She smiled, satisfied at last, and smoothed her dress. That, at least, she had held firm about, recalling Tya and Jonnas' chagrin as she dismissed the intricate bridal gowns they had thrust at her; gowns that were traditionally worn by the woman of the Houses. Female magicians were also required to wear some outward sign of which discipline they belonged to – an amethyst, ruby or emerald set in a piece of jewellery being the usual choice. Sonea felt the silk of the dress, heavier than that of her robes, swirl about her bare legs as she moved to examine her reflection. The dress, whilst made of a much richer fabric, could have been the simple bridal gown worn by any girl from the slums; its traditional dark red colour the symbol of love and desire – the only two reasons for a marriage of people from that part of the city. None of the hypocrisy of the pure white bridal gowns worn by the nobility, her aunt had finally conceded.

"_A life union_," Sonea remembered her aunt saying at a family marriage years ago_, "should not begin with a lie, it should begin with honesty. We may be many things_ _in this part of town, but we are nothing if not honest. Them in their mansions can sneer all they like, but if they think them white dresses fool us as to what goes on behind them grand doors of theirs, they're wrong_!" Jonna had huffed indignantly and the young Sonea had frowned, perplexed and not entirely sure what her aunt was talking about.

The older, and much wiser, Sonea smiled at the memory, fervently hoping that Akkarin would not be too shocked at the sight of her ruby gown as she was escorted by Ranel and Rothen to speak the words of binding in the Guildhall.

_He knows what I am and he has never belittled me for it; Akkarin would want me to be true to myself and not pretend to be something I have never been. I am enough for him._

Sonea flushed as she touched a pendant hanging from a fine silver chain around her neck. Her mind cast back to earlier in the day, at breakfast, before Akkarin had been banished from the residence by a fussing Jonna. Sonea had just returned from a luxurious soak at the baths in an attempt to calm her nerves; a fruitless effort as it turned out, since the attendants did nothing to soothe her as they thrust scented oils and lotions at her – tasked to do so, no doubt, by a scheming Jonna or Tya.

_If they knew how I had smelt in exile they would know that Akkarin will be pleased with just the odour of freshly washed skin,_ she had thought as she entered the door of the residence, a grimace playing across her face at thoughts of her time in the Sachakan Desert.

"That is not a very becoming expression for a bride to wear. Truly Sonea, is the prospect of becoming my wife so repulsive to you?" Akkarin had smiled his half-smile as he rose gracefully to greet her. Sonea had thought of his own rank odour after several days in Sachaka and she had returned his smile.

"Maybe it would be, " she'd replied," if bathing facilities were not so convenient." Akkarin's brow had creased in query, but she'd laughed.

"I was just thinking about our time in exile, when neither of us were at our best."

"No, indeed; though that did nothing to quench _my _desire at least – or yours, after an impromptu swim," he'd softly said, reminding her of the first time they had made love. He'd come to stand in front of her, taking her hands in his as he lent down and lightly kissed her. As he'd drawn away, Sonea had risen up on the balls of her feet to prolong the caress. Akkarin had chuckled.

"Time for that later," he'd said in a low voice and raised one eyebrow as he had sensed her surface thoughts. "Come, I have something for you."

Akkarin had then led her over to the couch in front of the fireplace and pulled her down to sit next to him; a light breakfast of breads and fruit had been laid out on the low table in front of them. Akkarin had then reached into the fold of his robes and had drawn out a small wooden box, highly polished but with no markings or embellishments, save for a tiny silver clasp. He had taken her hands in his long fingers and placed the box on her upturned palm. She'd looked at him quizzically and his eyes had glittered as he'd regarded her intently.

"For you. For today," he'd smiled and leaned towards her, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear before continuing quietly.

"For agreeing to be the wife of such a brooding, irritable and unbending man," he'd paused then and his smile had faded. "For loving me, despite my initial cruelties."

Sonea had then blinked wide-eyed from Akkarin's face to the small box and back again, her gaze finally falling down to the box once more, staring stupidly at it. Akkarin had thrown back his head and laughed.

"I have managed to silence the forthright Sonea at last," he'd chuckled as his face became a mask of amazed incredulity – "with a _gift!?"_

"Oh! I'm sorry, " Sonea had muttered, flustered, " it's just that no-one has ever given me anything before. I mean, nothing like..." she'd trailed off, words finally failing her.

"You don't even know what it is yet," he'd said gently, his expression serious. "Open it."

With slightly shaking fingers, Sonea had unhinged the clasp and opened the box.

"Oh Akkarin!" she'd gasped as she carefully grasped the delicate chain that lay on the ivory velvet between her thumb and finger. Sonea had held the necklace up and stared unwaveringly at the pendant that swung in between her face and Akkarin's.

The size of a thumbnail, the jewel that had hung there was as black and sparkling as the woman's eyes that were fastened on it. The teardrop shaped gem was cut with many facets and at its core a tiny heart shape had somehow been carved out – the resulting hollow seemed to be filled with a swirling liquid fire that set the jewel ablaze from the inside.

"A black diamond!" Sonea had breathed. "I've heard of them but have never seen one." Suddenly, Sonea felt her eyes brim with tears. ""It is...it is...beautiful." She'd looked at Akkarin as the tears overspilled.

"Thank you," she'd whispered. Akkarin had smiled his lop-sided smile.

"A black diamond for a black magician," Akkarin had stated. " Now you will be meeting the requirements of Guild law concerning the proper attire of a magician bride." His smile had widened as the look on Sonea's face told him what she thought of a law that made requirements on the female mode of dress for such an occasion, but not the male. Her eyes had slipped back to the necklace and she had suddenly realised that in her small fingers she held more than the value of the Outer Circle and everything in it.

"Where did you...?" Sonea had begun.

"It is a family gem that I ahhh...acquired, shall we say." Akkarin had tilted his head and thought with pride of his older sister who had given him the jewel from the family safe and would brook no argument, saying, with a wry smile, that he should consider it a wedding gift from their parents.

"But how...?" Again Sonea's words had trailed off and Akkarin pre-empted her question.

"I have the good fortune to know a magician who considers gem cutting a hobby. He is a genius, though modest, and the pieces he creates are for his own pleasure. He rarely takes on private commissions; being the infamous Lord Akkarin has its advantages. May I?" Akkarin had taken the chain from Sonea and, gently moving her long hair, he'd clasped the chain around her neck where the gem hung just below the hollow of her throat. Akkarin had touched it lightly with his fingertips, then glanced at Sonea and his eyes had glittered with an inner fire that burned like the gem at her throat.

"The skill was the maker's, but he worked to my design. Through tears of sadness I have learnt to love again, and now my heart burns in a way I never thought it could." His voice had been soft and low and his gaze had followed a tear that had escaped Sonea's eye and had traced its way down the faint scar on her cheek. Akkarin had laid his cool palm on her cheek and smiled.

"Of course, the shape could also be for tears of joy – as, I sincerely hope, these are. " And he had then leaned forwards to kiss her tears, tracing their path tenderly with his lips until he found her mouth. Sonea had responded hungrily, leaving him in no uncertainty about what kind of tears the black jewel had symbolised.

Now, some hours later, as she stood in front of the mirror, Sonea regarded the pendant as it nestled on her neck, glowing with a dark beauty. The seething heart of fire at its centre seemed to capture the rays of the early evening sun that filtered through the window making it pulsate, as if with life. The Black Magician stared at it in wonder.

"Sonea, it's nearly time." Sonea jumped at the quiet voice behind her, and she spun around to see Rothen standing at the door. The alchemist slowly entered the room, holding her gaze proudly as he walked towards her. He came to stand in front of her and grasped her hands in his and his eyes shone.

"Nervous, little Sonea?" Rothen asked and he studied her face intently as she tilted it, pursing her lips in consideration.

"A little; but for all the right reasons. I have no apprehensions about the commitment I am about to make."

Rothen sighed. "I could not part with such a recently found, and dearly loved, daughter, for any lesser man; and, indeed, he is so formidable, that even if you told me he was the last man on earth you wanted to marry, I would drag you kicking and screaming to the Guild Hall to speak the words of binding myself!" Rothen smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling, and Sonea laughed as she quickly wiped at her cheek.

"I have never shed as many tears as since I came to live amongst magicians! I cannot work out if that is a bad or good thing," Sonea smiled up at him and he squeezed her hands stepping away from her slightly and looking at her appraisingly.

"You look...beautiful, " he said and his smile widened as her cheeks flamed and she squirmed in embarrassment.

"And you also look yourself, I might add," Rothen continued. "I was worried I might not know the woman I escorted today ever since I overheard Tania whispering with Tya; I never knew that hair braiding held such complexities!" Sonea smiled again at that and coyly met his gaze.

"Well, I have made some adjustments since they left; I hope they won't mind. Do you like my dress?" She asked with a tone of mischievous defiance.

"The style – and colour – become you, and it certainly sets off that jewel at your neck!" Rothen whistled softly as he stepped forwards to look closer at it. "A black diamond! A gift from Akkarin?" Rothen had asked, not needing the small nod Sonea gave in confirmation. Rothen looked down at the dress again.

"Well, you will give the faces at the windows as we cross to the Guildhall , something to whisper about - though I am sure that was never your intention", he added sarcastically. Now it was his turn to smile mischievously, his eyebrows raised.

"I am not ashamed of where I come from," she said, her smile fading.

"Nor should you be," he stated soberly. "Now, come; Ranel is waiting downstairs. He is as jittery as an expectant father!"

* * *

The two men flanked the slight woman as the they crossed the grounds of the University to the Guildhall, where Akkarin and a small number of their friends and family waited. The sun shimmered its dying rays behind the grand buildings, casting long dark shadows before them. In the fading light, Sonea's long gown flowed blood red and she stared straight ahead, resisting the temptation to glance up at the faces she knew were watching at the surrounding windows.

One face, indeed, was watching intently, his face tight-lipped and bleak as the trio passed by below. Regin's brow creased slightly as he sighed and forced himself to turn away from the window. Akkarin had invited Regin to be present at the marriage – an invitation made in gratitude for his part in saving Sonea from Alya's vengeful knife. However, Regin had declined, saying it would be inappropriate at such an intimate gathering and fervently hoping that his face did not betray the true reason for his refusal. He had earlier sent a message of goodwill to the Black Magicians, as was the custom on such occasions. Now he sat gloomily staring into a glass of wine as dark red as the bridal gown worn by the woman, he admitted to himself, he had come to love, as she exchanged the words of binding with the Black Magician who had won her heart.

"Maybe it is a talent unique to black magicians," he muttered to a perplexed looking Alend who had just entered the room hoping to distract his friend on this painful evening. Alend looked quizzically at Regin who glanced up, his eyes shining.

"Talent? What talent is that?" Alend asked.

"The talent of turning blind fear and hatred into love," Regin replied desolately and he drained the contents of his glass.

* * *

The golden-haired woman sat silently on a hard wooden chair at the far side of her cell, wrapped in a heavy cloak to ward off the worst of the chill, no longer able to do so with magic . Her serene face was calmly impassive as she looked up at the high window above her head. The visit of Brienna earlier in the day had been oddly cathartic for Alya, and the prospect of her death in only a few days time now seemed remote, as if she had managed to distance herself from reality. The bitter taste of the tears she had shed on her friend's shoulder had sapped her will, and, whilst the wave of exhausted despair that had crushed her had now passed, it had left her weak and no longer able to rail against her destiny; oblivion would be a blessing when it finally came.

The last vestiges of the sun cast a crimson glow, tinting the pale grey stone of the prison with a gory hue and reflecting in Alya's pale hair, casting a morbid aura about her. And so the guard found her as she watched the light fade, unaware of his approach until he opened the gate of her cell and entered, placing the plate of food down on the table in front of her.

The Warrior guard shrugged absently to himself, trying to dispel an alien feeling that disconcerted him. The guard had not anticipated that he would feel the faint stirrings of pity for this condemned prisoner. It was not his place to have opinions on whether this woman deserved life or death, he mused. He had learnt the hard way that to dwell on such things only made for sleepless nights, and he would leave that responsibility to others better than himself; but either way, he took no joy in seeing a strong life broken and wasted.

"It is done then," Alya stated quietly without taking her eyes from the window.

"Pardon Lady?" the guard asked, momentarily forgetting that Alya was no longer entitled to such a form of address. Alya still did not move and murmured as if to herself.

"They are wed." It was a statement and not a question but the guard answered regardless.

"Yes – at sunset I believe," he replied gently. Alya laughed. It was a soft sound, but unmistakeable, and the guard regarded her curiously.

"Mercifully, I have not guarded many with a sentence such as yours, but those that I have never laughed in the face of death."

Alya finally turned to him and he almost recoiled at the strange mixture of fear, hate and pride that lurked behind the icy coldness of her steady gaze.

"Oh, I do not laugh in the face of death," she said , "only that I realise my own foolishness. I; who thought myself so superior, undone by the most primitive of emotions." She turned then, back to the window, lost in her thoughts and oblivious to the guard once more.

The guard regarded her for a moment more, then turned towards the barred door of the cell with a sigh and shook his head.

"Yes," he muttered to himself under his breath, "from king to peasant and from magician to simpleton; we are all of us at the mercy of such things, and fate takes no prisoners." And he smiled humourlessly at the irony of his own words. The guard glanced back at Alya and saw that her lips moved in an inaudible whisper.

"I did not catch that; is there something you wanted before I go?" he asked as a pang of sympathy lurched within him at the sight of her lonely figure as she sat huddled in the blanket.

"I was just remembering something my mother used to say to us as children," she murmured quietly.

"_Whether we fall by ambition, blood or lust; like diamonds we are cut with our own dust." _Her cold eyes met the guards once more and he knew that he would be kept from sleep that night.

"Do not pity me; I made my own fate." Alya said proudly then turned away and continued whispering the mantra over and over to herself.

"Whether we fall by ambition, blood or lust; like diamonds we are cut with our own dust."

* * *

"I never knew that magician's liked to celebrate so much. You certainly keep that hidden from the general population! I was beginning to doubt that we would ever get away!" Sonea caught Akkarin's hand as he walked besides her through the gardens, the shades of green being cast to grey in the pale moonlight. Akkarin glanced down at Sonea as she spoke and laughed softly.

"Yes; it would not quite fit in with our sombre image if the citizens of Imardin knew what a few cases of Anuren Dark reduced us to." He tightened his hand and pulled her closer to his side.

"With the judgement on Garrel and Alya decided, I think that a shadow has been lifted from the Guild, and with it the milder murmurings of discontent that may, with time, have escalated; the king and Higher Magicians did rightly to come down hard on Alya and Garrel." Akkarin looked down at Sonea again.

" Our friends and _some _of our family," he frowned and his mouth tightened, "were more than ready to celebrate with us." He paused and a smile touched his eyes causing them to sparkle. "Have I ever told you that blood-red is my favourite colour?" he asked her teasingly.

"Yes; several times today," she answered, nudging his side with her hip.

"Only because it is the colour of Anuren dark, of course; no other reason." And the smile spread to his lips which curled at the edges.

Sonea smiled shyly in return, then her face grew serious. " I am glad we will not be here when...when...Alya is..." Sonea's stomach lurched and her mouth went dry. When she glanced up at Akkarin saw noticed his eyes harden and saw something flash within them that was the antithesis of sympathy. Sonea swallowed quickly and forestalled anything he might say by smiling up at him, regretting that she had raised the subject.

"Where _are_ we going tomorrow? – and how on _earth _did you persuade Balkan and the king to let us leave Imardin so soon after the restrictions on our movements have been laid down?" She asked incredulously.

"We are not going far outside the City Sonea; just down the coast a little. I have an acquaintance who owns a property in a remote cove – I used to visit it as a child." Akkarin smiled wistfully then his features sobered.

"As for the King...well, let us say that his granting us leave was a favour repaid and leave it at that shall we?" The glint of the Black Magician's eyes was only just discernible in the darkness, his face cast into shadow by a faint globe light above his head, his expression was unreadable. As he looked into Sonea's perplexed face, he smiled again suddenly.

"There will also be an Escort; don't forget that," Akkarin continued wryly and his smile widened. "Though, I will give them every reason to keep their distance," he said mischievously, and he laughed aloud at Sonea's raised eyebrows and expression of mock outrage at the slight on her honour. He drew in a deep breath, feeling carefree and something like the young man who left the Guild all those years ago.

"Ah, Sonea! Sonea! My brilliant, beautiful little novice!" And he suddenly stopped and wrapped his arms around her tightly so that she was moulded to him.

"Today you have made me happier than I ever thought to be. I love you – always." He stooped then, to kiss her, but she pulled away from his caress with feigned grievance.

"Your _Novice_?!" Sonea exclaimed, though her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Abruptly, Akkarin's face became solemn and his black gaze bore into hers. Absently, he brushed a tendril of her hair away from her face, his long fingers slipping down her neck. Akkarin leaned forwards once more and whispered in her ear, his smooth lips brushing her skin.

"Say then - my wife," and his mouth moved to claim hers possessively and Sonea answered in such a way that left him in no doubt that his claim was good – always.

**A/N: Once again, thanks for taking the time to read - it would be great to get some feedback; like triple chocolate icecream for my soul! (with flake and sprinkles of course! - I am nothing if not appreciative of my reviewers!)**

**Well? Was this chapter a mild cheddar, or a full on ripe stilton? I was going to cover the actually wedding ceremony, but I think that would have been an out of date wedge of brie! It's a fine line, when writing romantic stuff, between cheesiness and touching sentimentality - I'm not sure how I did with this (I drew on my own wedding day in an attempt to keep the emotions realistic and not 'Mills and Bloom' - remember them? Probably not; oh dear, I'm far too old! They publish romantic dribble basically.) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.**

**Oh, hum; I'm rambling - a sure sign of apprehension. I'm going now. Thanks again!**


	12. Epilogue Found

**Epilogue: Found**

A strange, alien sound disturbed Akkarin's sleep. His dark lashes fluttered as his eyelids protested at their lack of rest; battling with the Black Magician's will as wakefulness slowly crept upon his mind and senses. The sound was barely audible and would not ordinarily have roused the sleeping magician, but the soft snuffling tugged somewhere at his unconscious mind, telling him that he must wake; that someone needed him.

For years Akkarin's sleep had been disturbed; if not by nightmares of his time as a slave, then by urgent messages bringing him news of foreign visitors to the city whose movements seemed to shadow strange ritualistic murders that had periodically plagued Imardin. As the High Lord of the Guild, Akkarin had led a lonely life, aloof from any personal friendships save that of Lorlen and the King; isolated and held prisoner by the painful secret of what he had endured at the hands of Dakova. By the nature of what he had become at that time, a black magician, he was bound to his secret, unable to tell anyone – a slave still. And so, he had been the silent, solitary defender of the kingdom. He had been needed by a people who did not even know it. A selfish need that had thrust him down a path he had not chosen and which offered no welcome rests along the way. The path he had trod had ground him down, wearying him until he had almost lost his true self on the journey. Almost..., but not quite.

Sonea, the girl from the Slums, had managed to spark the kindling that lay at the core of Akkarin's heart, lighting a fire that had warmed him on this most difficult of roads, finally burning down the prison that had held him; his cold demeanor and icy resolve melted. Now, beyond any of his wildest imaginings, the man who lay in his bed, struggling with the last bonds of sleep, was free. Free of the burden of knowledge; free of the responsibility of a people; free of the guilt of his time as a slave. Free – to be himself and to have his own needs. And yet...

And yet, the instinct within his drowsy mind was strong; stronger than any sense he had experienced before. Someone needed him and he must wake. The instinct, newly made but imperishable, could not be ignored. Memory suddenly flooded into Akkarin's head and his eyes snapped open as he remembered the events of the previous day. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, barely alleviated by the sliver of new moon that hung over the silent Guild beyond the shuttered window. The faintest of globe lights sprang into life above the bed and Akkarin turned to look at the figure lying next to him. He reached out a hand to tentatively move the dark strands of hair that obscured Sonea's sleeping features as she lay next to him, curled into his side, her face turned towards him on the pillow. She looked pale and wearied, but an unmistakable serenity shone from her like a lantern's hooded glow. Akkarin's long fingers lingered gently on her cheek and lightly brushed her lips. She murmured something unintelligible, unknowingly reaching an arm across his waist. The Black Magician's mouth pulled into a half-smile and he bent his head and kissed her forehead.

The noise grew louder; the soft snuffling became punctuated with sudden hitches of in drawn breath, and a low whimpering. Akkarin, wide awake now as the adrenalin of the day before renewed itself and coursed around his body, carefully slipped from Sonea's embrace and out of the bed, not wanting to wake her yet. He felt light headed with fatigue and a dawning exhilaration. The globe light hung dimly above his tall, gaunt frame as he gracefully moved around the foot of the bed towards the still faint, but growing, sound. He came to stand by the far side of the bed and he looked down on Sonea as she lay in an exhausted sleep. His lungs suddenly constricted with love and pride as he recalled how stoically she had endured the agonies of the previous day. The last months had not been easy for her, or without moments of concern for them both, but Vinara's fears in the face of the injuries inflicted upon Sonea by the Ichani, had not come to pass, and now, Akkarin was able to turn his attention to the small woven basket that sat on a wooden stand next to the bed.

The Black Magician reached into the basket and, with infinite care, he curled his hands around the writhing bundle that lay there. He lifted it out and settled it in the crook of his arm and, with his free hand, he tenderly stroked the soft down of black hair that covered the tiny head. The newborn infant, quiet and contented with the new-found attention, blinked up at Akkarin, and the magician lifted his arm so that the large dark eyes could focus on his face. The child held Akkarin's glittering gaze unwaveringly, where so many others still struggled to endure it. A tiny hand escaped the blankets and reflexively grasped the magician's finger tightly where it rested on a velvety cheek. Akkarin moved quietly to the nearby window and opened a shutter with one hand. He turned the newborn to face the night that blanketed the Guild beyond.

"This is your world," he whispered softly, and he looked out and pondered his own words. Akkarin had seen the best of the world, and the worst of it, and he knew now with certainty that, to appreciate the one, you had to experience the other; like seeing a caged bird, its freedom and uniqueness bound and suppressed, only to then behold the wonder and beauty of it in flight, soaring in the heavens above. As Akkarin gazed back at the bundle held in his protective embrace, he knew that he had found the greatest gift the world had to offer: to love and be loved; to need and be needed – without fear or restrictions, and breaking the chains of prejudice and hate, as his and Soneas' love had. He steadily met the wide and innocent eyes that regarded him still.

"My son," he whispered into the darkness.

As he took in the small, perfect features of the new life he and Sonea had created, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and it grew and widened, unfettered, into one of elated pride. It did not matter that only the moon was there to see it, for it was for himself alone.

**A/N:- Well, that's all folks! A bit fluffy I know, but I had to give Akkarin the moment he didn't get in THL. Thanks to anyone who has supported this story, and thanks for reading; as always, please review.**


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